Milky Way
by StackofStories
Summary: Benjamin moves to the extra ordinary town of Little Whinging and finds the most extraordinary little boy.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Benjamin moves to the extra ordinary town of Little Whinging and finds the most extraordinary little boy.**

**AN: WIP. I don't know when I'll update this, but the pairing has been on my mind for like ever. I apologize for any and all mistakes. Eventual slash.**

**Everybody say Hi to my new, amazing, beta: THE WISTFUL BLOOM!**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

He'd been watching It.

Every single day for the past two weeks. From the moment Benjamin joined this community, he'd been watching It. He thought back to the cloudy day where the wind shifted and the sweetest scent washed over him. The opportunity to have It was in the palm of his hand, but he waited. The pressure on his bottom lip was gone.

He waited, and learned of It that lived across the road. It, that lived in a house like all the others in Little Whinging. Two stories with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. A painted red door with a brass number four was the only differing factor.

It lived with a zoo of people: A whale of man who waddled as he walked, his multiple chins shaking with each step he took. The whale left the house at seven o'clock sharp and didn't come home until eight- also sharp. It also lived with a giraffe of a woman. She had a long, skinny neck and a high, shrill voice. The giraffe left the house only to gossip loudly or to brag about something with the other ordinaries. Sometimes, she came out to snoop through the neighbors' rubbish bins at the crack of dawn. Lastly, It lived with another being, the pig. This one was the nastiest of them all.

The pig was a mutation of the giraffe and the whale. He toddled as he walked, round and pink- resembling a beach ball- and had a wailing voice like a banshee. The pig liked to blame It for everything that went wrong, and often chased It round the block with a group of squealing piglets.

Benjamin never liked bullies, but he never intervened. Not just yet, anyway.

It was the one that quietly crept from the house just before the sun poked up from the horizon, and set to work. It wore stretched, torn jumpers and old trainers. It never said a word, pulling out weeds and the like. It only stepped back inside at nine, twelve, and five, for an hour each time. It didn't really go in until the last of the sun's dying rays faded away.

Benjamin had been skulking around long enough- the time was now. He dressed in his most casual clothes, and practiced his most welcoming smile. All to attract It. He leaves the house and walked across the single paved road that separated him from It.

He waved and nodded to the nosy neighbors whose eyes follow him. Benjamin wondered if they notice the way his gait has changed- ever so slightly- how he slowed with each step, and stopped for the millionth of each second to assess It. His nose flared, taking in the surrounding scents. He let out a precursory, low warning growl — a sign to any potential predators that It was his and his alone.

He was on the lawn, gliding across like some ghostly specter. Benjamin's bottom lip was punctured by the time he crouched down beside It. He breathed in again, and the scent alone was enough to send him into a frenzy.

It turned toward him. Benjamin waited for the expected to happen; for It to scream, for Its heart to beat in a frantic rhythm- because surely It knew who was prey and who was predator.

Instead, wide emerald green eyes, framed with large glasses (much too big for Its tiny face) focus on Benjamin. Thin, chapped lips twitch into a simple smile. "I'm Harry," It said. It offered a small hand, brown with dirt.

Benjamin blinked, and then laughed. This was a situation he never imagined; the prey was not scared, but welcoming? He made a rash decision, hunger temporarily abated. His hand encloses around Its— _his_ hand, giving it a firm shake.

"Benjamin."

"Will you be my friend?" Harry asked, leaning forward.

"Sure?"

"Wicked!" Harry grinned, presenting all his little pearly whites. "Dudley scares away everyone." He was bouncing excitedly. "We should play a game! I don't know how to play lots of games, but I learn things really, really fast…"

Benjamin nodded, humming and grinning, while his mind raced. His observations had failed to make it obvious that It, Harry, was a child. A strange young thing, so starved for attention that his innate senses had failed to warn him. Benjamin never fully understood the phrase, to look at you as if you've hung the moon- until now. Harry looked at him like that. Fifteen minutes hadn't even passed.

"How about we play the easiest game?" Benjamin suggested, "why don't we play hide and seek?"

"Okay!" Harry jumped to his feet and pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses. "I hide, you seek," he took off, running. He was fast... for a human. "No peeking, and you have to count to one hundred!" He called over his shoulder.

Benjamin's smile grew wider. It wasn't like he needed to peek, but he'd bite. He covered his eyes with his hands. "One, two, three…"

He could hear Harry's muffled giggling as if he was shouting. His quick footsteps reverberated on the dry lawn, his heartbeat a constant thrum. And, if that wasn't enough, his sweet aroma wafted cruelly goaded Benjamin to let loose.

"–twenty-five, one hundred. Ready or not, here I come." He started to walk around, aimlessly. Harry's heart was racing. He was moving as Benjamin moved. Benjamin had him in his peripheral vision.

"I wonder where Harry could be?" he said aloud. He ducked behind the hedges and bushes, pawing through the green foliage. "Not here?"

"Ah?" He spun on his heel, bending down to check under a creepy ceramic gnome. "Not here, either?" He scratched his head. "Harry's not here in front… hmm, he must be a pretty good hider."

He glanced around the small lawn, slowly, inching back up. The neighbors were watching him. Humans thought they were so discreet, peeking over their fences, the newspaper, or casually jogging by. He gave each and every one of them a pointed grin and wave.

He whirled around and rubbed his chin."I guess if he's not in the front, he must be in the back."

"Harry! Where are youuu~?" He grinned, calling out in a singsong voice.

He spotted the toolshed in the back, nestled beside a long row of colorful flowers. He didn't linger too long on the boy's silhouette. The boy occasionally peeked out from behind the toolshed, a hand clamped around his mouth to muffle his delighted snickers.

Benjamin continued forward. He stopped every now and then to check the bushes, or a random overturned stone. His own amusement grew with every giggle that slipped from Harry's mouth. At last, he made it into the backyard; there he pretended to survey the area.

"I wonder... if I were to check behind this big suspicious toolshed…" He smirked. He headed straight, his pace deceptively casual. Harry's heartbeat rose the closer he got, still giggling behind a sweaty hand.

It seemed Harry couldn't stand the anticipation, because he leapt away from the toolshed just as Benjamin was ready to approach. "You found me!" he exclaimed, his cheeks flushed. "You found me! But you cheated!"

Benjamin pointed to himself in mock offense. "Me, cheated? No!"

Harry crossed his arms. "You didn't count to a hundred, you counted to twenty-five. I heard you."

Benjamin chuckled. He had enough sense to look somewhat petulant. "Alright, I admit to it. What do you suggest I do to fix such a horrid transgression?"

Harry's scrunched his nose, staring at him oddly. "What's a trans-gret-sh-un?"

"Transgression," Benjamin repeated. "It's a word that means you broke the rules."

"Oh! okay..." He nodded to himself, then he landed his stare once more on Benjamin. "For your tran-sagrets-ion" –Benjamin grinned- "we have to play another game; a fair one! I'm the seeker," he pointed at himself, "you be the hider!" He pointed at Benjamin.

"Alright?" Harry said, his arms still crossed.

"Sounds fair, little man."

"Hide! I'll count to ten!" Harry shooed Benjamin off. He slapped his hands over his face with a loud smack, loudly starting the countdown.

Benjamin hid.

He couldn't help but indulge Harry whenever he pleaded for them to play one game after another. They played dozens upon dozens of short childish games, and they never seemed to dampen Harry's energy. In fact, they did quite the opposite.

"Benjamin!" Harry squealed when he had caught him by the waist in their fourth game of tag. "You've got me, now, let me go!"

"Really? I wonder if I shoul—"

"Boy!" shrieked the giraffe, "what on _earth _do you think you're doing?" Harry froze in his grasp. His green eyes darted up before he wriggled out of Benjamin's grasp. Benjamin's gaze followed. He was still in the same position, like a statue.

"What have I told you about talking to strangers?" The giraffe hissed down at Harry, who had hurried to stand in front of her. He was smaller this way, his back hunched and his head hung low.

"I'm... not supposed to." Harry whispered.

"So you know the rule. And you deliberately disobeyed me. Oh, just you wait until Vernon gets ho—"

Harry's head snapped up. He was trembling. "Aunt 'Tunia! No! I-I-I—"

The giraffe regarded her nephew with a cold, disdainful look. "Get in the house," she ordered.

"Aunt 'Tunia, don't tell Uncle Vernon- I didn't mean to—"

"Get in." she barked. Harry sent a lasting mournful look to Benjamin before he ran into the house, leaving him with the giraffe.

Said giraffe had a satisfied grin on her face. She combed through her mousy brown hair before turning to him. Gone was the coldness, replaced by artificial cheer. "Hi, I'm sorry about the boy." She laughed lightly.

"We just have to be so firm with him, you see. He's such a handful. I'm sure the neighbors have told you how he doesn't play well with the other children, unlike my dear Dudders." She laughed again. She was fond of that- it was like her way of trying to smooth everything over, to make the situation normal. "It's best not to be around him."

Benjamin eased up. He straightened out his clothes and scrubbed at his dirty hands. He appeared relaxed. "There might be an underlying reason why he doesn't play well with other children, or talks to strangers. Those are early warning signs for heading down a dangerous path later in life."

"Exactly," the giraffe let out a delighted titter.

"My father's a bobbie and my mom's a social worker." He nodded toward the house behind him, "I've been observing Harry, and I figured my Dad or Mom could talk to him—"

"That won't be necessary, I assure you," the giraffe said hurriedly.

Ah, Benjamin loved the decadent smell of nervousness. It spiked the adrenaline, made the blood circulate a little faster throughout the body. He still wore the same genial grin that refused to leave. "Okay," he said, "but if I continue to see Harry be unsociable, and wearing tatty clothing, or... anything else, it is my obligation to say something. You do understand that?"

"Of course," the giraffe said, after a pause, "I understand."

Benjamin nodded, grin still in place. "Tell Harry that I'll see him tomorrow."

"I'll pass the message along."

"Great." He began his trek back across the asphalt. He stepped back before he got to the curb. "Oh, and it's nice to finally meet you. My name's Benjamin," he said.

"Petunia Dursley," she said weakly.

Benjamin's grin widened. Huh. He always hated petunias. Ugly flowers. Uglier name.

The next day, Benjamin decided to leave his house at an earlier time, around eight, when Harry would first leave the house. He waited in the front yard, patient.

Harry arrived two or three minutes past his usual time. A brown tool belt hung loosely around his waist. His clothes were marginally better than yesterday's. He spared Benjamin a startled glance, then got to work without even word.

Benjamin's smile dropped. "Hey now, what's wrong? I thought we were friends."

"I not supposed to talk to strangers." Harry said blankly.

Benjamin inched forward. "I'm not a stranger. We're friends, remember?" He meant only to touch Harry's shoulder when he pulled back with a grimace. "Harry?"

He wouldn't look at him. "Don't touch there," he said. He moved further away.

He only rose an eyebrow at the strange demand. Benjamin extended his hand to brush against his back. Harry flinched back, grimacing in obvious pain. Yet he said not a word, nor did he look at him. Benjamin processed. He'd been on this Earth for too long to be ignorant to such obvious signs. Still he asked, if only for courtesy's sake.

"Harry, what happened?"

"I not supposed to talk to strangers."

"You won't get in trouble if you tell me, I promise," he soothed.

"I not supposed to talk to strangers."

"You can tell me. I'm your friend."

"_I not supposed to talk to strangers_," he repeated insistently. He began to dig into the soft ground. Benjamin got up.

"Fine, I'll go talk to your Aunt then," he began toward to house. Harry leapt up and pulled on his shirt.

"You can't! You can't! You can't!" Harry begged. He tugged back with all his strength.

"I can and I am."

"I not hurt, promise!"

Benjamin abruptly turned to face Harry. He bent down to the same level as him. Harry was pale-faced, trembling. "Tell me what happened."

Harry shifted in place, his stare firmly locked on the ground. "I fell down the stairs when I was playin' with Dudley. It was accident."

Benjamin hummed. He didn't need his enhanced senses to see that Harry was lying, but he went along. "How'd you fall?"

"I was playin'," Harry mumbled, fisting his large shirt.

"Uh huh, but how did you fall? Did you trip as you went down the stairs, when you were walking?"

Harry nodded. Right. Benjamin shot back up. "You're lying to me." He went. Harry followed.

"I not lying!"

Benjamin didn't bother to answer. With the door open from Harry's arrival, he slipped into the home. Harry was at his heels, valiantly trying to pull him back. Benjamin kept going down the narrow hallway, smelling breakfast and hearing it being devoured by a crowd of three with minimal conversation. He was not expecting the giraffe, the pig, and the whale to be up and together at this hour, but it was an early Saturday morning. No work for the whale. No morning play dates for pig. Giraffe barely left the house anyway.

He stopped about halfway towards the kitchen, motionless, as he stared down the cupboard to the right of him. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but there was something utterly miserable about the small space. Its presence alone had repulsed him, and the horrid smell! It was like an acrid mixture of salty tears, suffering and blood — Harry's salty tears, suffering, and blood! So strong, and so heavy- the scents told him this was where Harry dwelt.

"Harry," he said slowly, "what is this?"

Harry abruptly let go of him. He hurried in front of the cupboard. His small body was barely big enough to cover the entrance of the damned thing. "N-nothing!" He stuttered.

"Can I see inside this... nothing?"

"No!" Harry shook his head. Benjamin could see the new tears that threatened to spill. A strong sense of dread clung to Harry like a second skin. He frowned, but did not press him on the subject. He continued down the hall, to where the animals were being fed.

Harry was still behind him when he got to the door that separated them from his animal family. "I'm not hurt!" Harry whispered anxiously. "Benjamin! Go 'way!"

"No."

He entered the kitchen, all smiles. Jam and bread crumbs were smeared around both the pig and the whale's mouths. The giraffe was better, with a white cup pressed to her lips. Harry was at his pants leg, clutching the jean material.

"Who the devil are you?" Roared the whale, a murderous look in his beady black eyes. He glanced toward Harry. "Freak!" He ground his teeth.

"I'm sorry!" Harry cried out.

Benjamin waggled his index finger. "Don't blame Harry here. I wanted to talk to you." He calmly walked forward and grabbed a spare plate. He hummed as he took what was left of the breakfast: some fluffy yellow eggs, some toast, and the rest of the bacon and sausages. He eyed the pig's milk before he decided against it- who knew what sort of germs the boy carried.

He gave the plate and spoon to Harry. "Call it a hunch, but I bet you haven't eaten yet."

Harry's silence said it all.

"You go on and enjoy breakfast. I'll just stay here and chat."

Harry shivered. "You not going hurt them?" Interesting. Had Harry recognized he was dangerous?

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Benjamin crossed his undead heart. Harry nodded and sent one last nervous glance to his family of animals before he tucked in. The kitchen door swung to a close behind his retreating form.

Benjamin pulled out the only unoccupied chair across from the pig. He sat himself down, giving them an award-winning smile.

"Now see here! I don't know who you thi—"

"Ah! Before we start this rodeo," Benjamin pointed at the pig, stuffing his face, "I think all of the children should leave. This is a conversation for adults."

The whale, red in the face, held tightly onto his spoon, refusing to say anything. The giraffe pinched her lips together. She was born with some type of sense, because she opened her mouth when her husband wouldn't. "Dudders, go join the boy in the other room."

The pig grunted. Piggy was defiant to Mama, he stayed in place.

"Piggy, it's best if you listen to your dear mother," Benjamin warned him.

The child sent him a nasty glare before turning back to his plate. It was rare that Benjamin got so worked up over children, but he did not tolerate disrespect, especially when he was making the effort to be cordial.

"Child—!"

"Dudley, go outside!" The whale hissed.

"But daaaad!" The fat piglet oinked.

"Now!" roared the whale. The piggy cowered momentarily before he started to waddle off, with angry crocodile tears pricking at his eyes. Benjamin stopped him with a cool hand to the shoulder, his grin still in place.

"You make sure to play nicely with your cousin, if I hear one breath of complaint, there'll be trouble." He allowed his canines to lengthen, and for his eyes to turn blood red.

The pig squeaked. Benjamin turned him loose, amused to see how fast the pig moved when properly cowed. He twisted back around to face the giraffe and whale, his hand propped under his cheek.

"I should call social services. Or the police, at the very least," he started pleasantly.

The giraffe spluttered. Benjamin was learning that the whale's skin could bolster into many variations of red. Right now, it was more of a bright cherry. As if he were a child and he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You are breaking and entering!" shouted the whale, "you'll be doing us a favor, interrupting our breakfast, taking our food, and touching our son!"

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Touching your son? What sort of touches are you talking about, an unlawful hand to the shoulder? I wonder what they'd say to the marks on Harry's back?"

The whale was now a deeper crimson. "That little freak—"

"Be more careful with your words," Benjamin's happy tone went cold, "that '_freak'_ is the only thing that's stopping me from killing you, your wife, and your son."

"Are you threatening me? Well I never! In my own house!" The whale slammed a shaking fist on the table. "I will not a have a deadbeat punk like y—"

Benjamin shot forward. He wrapped a single hand around the whale's meaty throat, easily lifting him up in the air despite his size. The whale tried to struggle out of his hold, kicking and scratching to no avail; the more he struggled the more pain he was in.

"Now I've warned you," Benjamin said in a sugary-sweet tone. "My patience is thinning. I see that speaking to you in a calm manner just won't do it. So, you'll stay and listen to me or I will break your neck." He squeezed for extra emphasis, loving the way the whale choked, his vibrant red edging toward a purplish-blue hue.

"Now, as I told your wife," he nodded toward the frozen giraffe, "my parents work in the social justice field. I have been watching and taking notes on Harry. I have ample evidence to put you two behind bars for a very long time."

The whale wheezed pitifully, shaking his head.

"I won't do that. Not yet, at least. But you're trying me."

"How dare you insult me like this!" Benjamin dug his nails in the man's soft skin, careful to keep his strength at bay. "I should kill you, but I hate to see a child without any sort of family, even a terrible one. So, I'm giving you another chance. There won't be a third."

Gripping the man tight, his attention turned to the pale-faced giraffe. "I have some requests regarding Harry. Understand?"

She nodded, eyeing him fearfully before her gaze darted to her wheezing husband. "Don't mind him, he's fine. You should focus on Harry. I'm going to go ahead and assume from that you fail to fulfill the most basic of needs regarding Harry. So, let's go down the list. He needs a new wadrobe, good clothes, I don't much care if they come from a secondhand shop or not, but they will all fit and be to his liking. He will receive adequate clothing for all seasons and for the school-year, which reminds me… is he enrolled?"

The giraffe licked her lips, her heart rate jumping so fast…

Benjamin saved her from answering. "You will enroll him as soon as the next school year starts. You will be taking him to the doctors as often as you do your son.

"In addition, the cupboard," Benjamin clenched his hands at next thought that came forth. This family should be on their knees, kissing each and every one of Harry's little toes. Because if their disrespect didn't kill them, this would. "For your sake I won't go into it, but that will be cleaned out immediately and used for its intended purpose.

"Harry will be given a proper bedroom with toys, a new mattress, sheets, and basically every single item you've given your son. It will all be new and working. Are we clear?"

The giraffe nodded, swallowing.

"Food. Harry will be given three proper meals a day, like your son. Snacks are at your own discretion, but he will be fed. Chores. You will assign proper chores for a boy his age. And if you give him chores, your precious son will be doing the same. Again, if I hear one complaint from Harry about his treatment here, there will be consequences."

Benjamin squeezed the whale; he really liked doing that. It was like the whale was some sort of giant stress ball, a perfect catharsis.

"Let's see, we went through the basics of food, shelter, clothing. You will steer your son away from bullying Harry. He shouldn't be bullied by his own cousin, a little teasing never hurts anyone, but a neighborhood game of Harry Hunting goes too far.

"Punishments are as you see fit. You punish Harry if he is rightly in the wrong, again though, punish Harry as if you were punishing your own son. No more of those belt marks on him. There will be no bruises or marks of any kind on Harry; a good smack goes a long way… but a beating is ridiculous.

"Lastly, you will act cordially around Harry. I don't know your story with him. And, frankly, I don't care. He is a child. You will care for him. I don't expect sudden hugs or kisses, but you will certainly be kind and respect him. Address him by his name, for one.

"Also, you will not stop Harry and I from talking. As long as he wants me around I will stay. Do not even think to try and interfere with that.

"These are my requests," Benjamin said, "for now." He abruptly let go out the whale, snickering as he fell to the ground, greedily sucking in air and rubbing at his irritated neck. "Understand?"

"Yes," the giraffe said.

"Good. I'm glad we had this chat." Benjamin was back to all smiles, "I'll leave you to your breakfast." He patted the whale on his scruffy blond head, loving the terrified gleam in his eye, the way he practically rolled away to avoid him.

He made his way out of the small kitchen. He went to Harry in the living room where the small boy was curled up on the couch, very interested in whatever silly cartoon was acted out on the small screen. His empty plate was on the floor. His cousin was in a recliner chair, far from Harry; he squealed when he saw Benjamin.

"Harry!" Benjamin sat down next to him.

Harry gave him a smile significantly dimmer than yesterday's. "Hi."

"Don't look so down in the dumps, Harry. I talked to your Aunt and Uncle."

Harry's smile completely dropped. Fear still clung to him.

"No, no, it wasn't like that. We just had to iron out a few problems, you know, talk about normal adult things. You aren't in any sort of trouble."

"Really?" Harry asked in a tiny voice.

"Really really. In fact, they said we can play together as much as we want. How does that sound?"

Harry's smile was his answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks to everyone for taking an interest in my latest project. Don't expect fast updates like this. My track record is really bad when it comes to keeping up with stories. Ha. I apologize for any and all mistakes. _Eventual slash._**

**_Beta'd by the amazing: THE WISTFUL BLOOM!_**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

He was flummoxed. Yes, flummoxed was the correct word. As students and parents stepped out from their homes, walking to school clad in uniforms of red and grey, Benjamin was flummoxed as he eyed the oncoming crowd of three.

The giraffe held the pig's hand, choking back tears and garbled cries of 'My Dudders is growing up so fast!'. Every child was dressed to the nines with pressed grey pants and skirts, hair pulled and combed, and black shoes shiny. Each child looked prim and proper for the first day of school. Except for Harry. Harry did not.

Polite parents tried not to stare too much, but the children were a little less subtle, with open mouths and their pointed fingers. Benjamin spared a glance to the seemingly nonchalant giraffe. He wondered what Harry had done to make a woman like Petunia, so set on the image of normalcy, okay with his less-than-stellar outfit. He was suddenly very glad that he had the forethought to bring a comb before he left the house.

The giraffe and piglet converged with the rest of the chattering horde. Harry stopped where Benjamin stood. He couldn't help but give the boy a bright smile as he dropped to his knees, fixing what should have already been fixed.

"Harry," Benjamin greeted him with a smile, "what's happened?"

Harry returned his smile tenfold. "I got up and washed up and brushed my teeth extra clean, like you said I should do every morning."

"Mhm," Benjamin tugged the backwards Barnsbury sweater off, smiling fondly at the buttoned down shirt- the buttons off by one. He glanced at Harry's pants. At least he gotten the belt through all the correct loops.

"Aunt 'Tunia laid out my clothes, so, I put on my clothes all by myself. Aunt Tunia helped Dudley. She said I did good on my own, and she even smiled!" Harry said brightly.

Benjamin clicked his tongue. He threaded the correct button through the last hole, straightening Harry's shirt and collar afterwards. He wanted to curse the giraffe, but for Harry's sake he continued to smile. He'd have another talk with her today. "She was right, munchkin! You did a fantastic job."

He tucked in Harry's shirt and put his sweater back on properly. Benjamin was thankful that Harry remained still as he went over him with deft hands. He unzipped his backpack, checked his lunch, and made sure he had all his school supplies, which he did. Harry's shoes were saved for last. He was grateful that they weren't mucked up or falling apart- only untied.

"Harry, do you know how to tie your laces?"

Harry shook his head: no.

"I'm going to show you. When you get back home today, we'll practice. Sound good?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed.

"Alright." He hiked Harry's right foot up to rest on his thigh, picking up the two black laces. "First thing, you want to make sure that the laces are pulled extra tight–," he demonstrated, "and then, you want to make these two laces cross, with one going underneath the other. You got this so far?

Harry jerkily nodded. He stared at his foot and Benjamin's hands, brow furrowed in concentration.

"You want to make two Bugs' Bunny ears, cross them again, and there should be a hole where one ear goes in. You pull them tight, and voila!"

Benjamin double-tied the first shoe and worked on the other.

"Cool!" Harry said when he was done. He stared at his shoes in absolute awe. "Thanks, Benjamin."

"No problem." He pulled out the slim black comb next. For a second, he studied the thin piece of plastic — could it tame Harry's hair? He looked at Harry's unruly black hair, then back to the comb. He wouldn't chance it; he'd have to buy a brush or something before he tried to stick a comb through those locks.

He slid back up and patted Harry's head, leading him toward the other children filing inside the school gates.

"So, are you excited?" Benjamin asked.

Harry hesitated. "Kinda. My tummy feels weird... like I'm gonna be sick."

Benjamin laughed. "Those are nerves. You'll feel better once you settle in. I promise."

Harry fidgeted with his red sweater, nodding back. He scuffed his shoe against the pavement. Oddly quiet. "Benjamin?" he called, quietly.

"Yes, Harry?" He looked down at his little charge.

"Do you think they'll like me? And want to play with me?" Harry asked in a rush. He blushed, glancing away.

"Harry? Look at me."

Harry looked. Benjamin could smell the tears. "Of course they'll like you, short stuff! You'll make lots of new friends, and forget all about little old me!" He laughed.

Harry sniffed. "But, Dudley says—"

"I'm going to stop you right there. You can't trust everything your piggie cousin says. He's probably just jealous of all the friends you're sure to make, and how the teacher will adore you."

"Really?"

"Really," he ruffled Harry's hair, "now, you go and turn that frown upside down."

Harry was back to his happy self in the nick of time. The children started filing through the gates and into the schoolyard, the newer parents teary-eyed as they prepared to wave their kids off. One such parent was the giraffe; she wailed as she pressed smattering kisses to the pig's fat head and cheeks.

Harry stayed back from the crowd. He took a couple of steps forward, hesitated, then abruptly ran back. He threw his arms around Benjamin's waist, squeezed extra tight before letting go, and ran off to join his schoolmates.

Again, the odd flummoxed feeling arose within him. Harry was finicky about physical touching. He never initiated it, and if he could help it shied away from the simplest of touches. It took months before Harry was comfortable with a casual touch to his head or shoulders. This was a huge step in the right direction.

Feeling happier, he smiled as he jogged to catch up to the retreating giraffe. "Petunia!" He called. She paused on the pavement, folding her arms. Her blue eyes darted toward the retreating backs of parents. Silly giraffe, they couldn't help her.

"You think you're cute. A word of advice; don't allow Harry outside like that again. He will be dressed appropriately for all future occasions. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," the giraffe said through gritted teeth.

"Good. I'll see you at three," he waved to her, heading back to his house. Now, what was there to do with Harry gone?

He smiled darkly when he got the door, smelling blood in the air. Two miles east. Well, he hadn't hunted in awhile.

...

At exactly quarter past three, Benjamin was stood outside the school. The parents had congregated together in a mutated circle, eagerly talking amongst one another. Benjamin awkwardly stood off to the side. It wasn't like he didn't like people — quite the opposite, it was just the people of Little Whinging were boring people who led mundane lives. He didn't care for their town gossip.

The children eagerly spilled out at twenty past, and rushed into awaiting arms. Harry was lost in the crowd. He wriggled through the taller children until he spotted Benjamin. Benjamin could see the smile that bloomed immediately.

Harry ripped forward. He wrapped his arms around Benjamin's waist. This time he stayed long enough for Benjamin to give him a proper squeeze back, soaking in the boy's warmth.

"Hi, Harry," he laughed, "I take it you had a good day."

Harry nodded excitedly. He was buzzing with energy, waiting for the opportunity to let it all out. Benjamin studied the parental queues around him. He coaxed Harry's backpack off his shoulders and slipped it on; he held his palm out to Harry. Harry took it eagerly.

"Petunia," he called to the startled giraffe. "I'll have Harry back before sundown." She pursed her lips, nodding.

His attention back on Harry, he figured he'd been torturing him long enough. "Are you going to tell me about your day?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It was _so_ awesome!" Harry declared. He pushed up his glasses. "I have the coolest teacher ever! Not as cool as you though, Benjamin; nobody is as cool as you! Her name is Ms. Lucky and she has black and blond hair, and she is super nice and pretty. She let me play with all the toys and she didn't yell at me once!

"And the school, it's so big inside! It has so many rooms! They're super cool too, but our classroom is the bestest. Ms. Lucky says at the end of year it will be filled with our artwork and the stuff we're going to learn! Like why the sky is blue!" Harry said. "Do you know why the sky is blue?"

"I can't say I do, munchkin," Benjamin admitted.

Harry grinned. "I'll tell you when I learn!

"Oh, Oh, Oh! And she told us lots of things about ourselves. Like, I'm ninety on the height scale! I have a birthday like Dudley! It's in July, the last day of July! It means I'm younger than Dudley, but still smarter," Harry nodded. Benjamin laughed. "And I have three names!" Harry held up a hand, showing Benjamin three little fingers. "I'm Harry James Potter.

"Ms. Lucky said it's a very strong and catchy name. Perfect for me!" Harry puffed out his chest with pride. "And I haven't even told you the best part," Harry gasped. "Guess!"

Benjamin shrugged. Harry's happiness was infectious. "You get naptime?"

"Wrong!" Harry giggled. "I have my very own cubby."

"No way," Benjamin said, acting as if it was the most astonishing news.

"Way." Harry nodded, utterly serious. "I have to keep it clean for inspections. And, if I pass, Ms. Lucky will give me stickers. At the end of the month the person with the most stickers will be line leader."

"Amazing!"

"I know! I will be line leader, because I clean the best!"

They arrived at number five. Benjamin unlocked the door and Harry darted in. He was mindful of Benjamin's rules- he took off his shoes off once he stepped into the house. Benjamin set Harry's backpack down on the brown couch in the living room, shooing Harry to the kitchen.

He pulled out Harry's folder, thick with paper, sliding it under his arm. He headed to the kitchen where Harry skillfully set himself on one of the stools at the counter, swinging his legs. He patiently waited for Benjamin to make his snack. His snack being the crispy chicken nuggets and chips that sat on the stovetop.

A quick minute later, a hot plate was placed down in front of Harry along with a glass of apple juice. "Thank you!" Harry chirped, picking up a chip.

Benjamin nodded, eyeing him for a brief second. He placed the folder on the countertop, going through the many miscellaneous welcome sheets and supplies lists (he'd leave that to the giraffe). The only thing he was interested in was the multiple contact blanks that needed to be filled. He didn't trust the Dursleys enough for them to be there in case of an emergency, or a parent-teacher conference.

Sheets later, Benjamin was at the folder's end. A bright yellow piece of paper lay stark against the white of the folder. Unlike the other pieces of paper, this one was heavily creased and marked. Barnsbury Clubs, it read.

Benjamin pulled it out noting which clubs were crossed out: tennis, lacrosse, American Football, rounders, archery… he went down the list until he got to the faded word of football. Football looked like it had been slashed through multiple times, erased, slashed again and erased once more.

"Harry, do you want to join a club?" Benjamin asked. He held up the paper. Harry swallowed the chicken nugget he'd been nibbling on.

"Yes!" Harry reddened, backtracking, "I mean, no!"

"Yes or No?"

"Um no?"

"Harry, what have I told you about lying?"

Harry fidgeted on the wooden stool. "Not to," he mumbled.

"Right. I'm going to ask you again; do you want to join a club?"

"Yes," Harry said, unenthused. He picked at his food. "I wanna play footie, but…"

"But what?" Benjamin pushed softly.

"Aunt Tunia will say no, and _I know _Uncle Vernon will say no before I even say anything," he shrugged helplessly.

Benjamin blew out. He let his mind wander down the paths of What-Ifs. What if Amun hadn't said the things he said and if he hadn't moved to this dreadfully boring place? Would Harry be the boy in the cupboard forced to repress his urges like this? The thought alone was a disturbing one. He'd see to it that all the damage the Dursleys inflicted on Harry would be undone.

"Munchkin, you can't assume things. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"You make an ass out of you and me," he chuckled. Harry giggled. "But in all seriousness don't be so quick to say no to what you want. I bet your Aunt and Uncle will gladly allow you to be on the footie team, if you really want to."

"I really want too!" Harry said, this time with more gusto.

"Awesome! Why don't you finish your snack, and we can play some games outside when you're done."

Harry cheered. He hurried to finish up, while Benjamin watched him. Harry failed to notice the dark look brewing on Benjamin's face.

It looked like he'd have to do more requesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**By the Unnamed God, I updated. It's like way, way early in the morning and I did a rough edit. I apologize for any and all mistakes found in this chapter, I'm sure there will be many. I hope it doesn't hinder any reading that much. Minor time-skip. I still haven't gotten to why Benjamin left Amun and his coven yet. Nor have I described Benjamin in detail. Dammit. For anyone who wonders what in the hell Benjamin looks like look up Rami Malek, or the guy that plays the Pharaoh in Night at the Museum. Thanks to all the read, favorite and follow, and review.**

**the snake in this is an albino reticulated python…**

**Beta'd by the wonderful: _THE WISTFUL BLOOM!_**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

"Benjamin, you came!" was the excited yelp, "you actually came!" Harry was hopping and waving from the front door. He calmed down when Benjamin was at the door.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied, amused. Like always, he couldn't help but smile. The excited birthday boy was spick-and-span in blue jeans and a nice button-down. A silly colored cone hat sat on his head.

"Are all those for me?" Harry asked softly. He stared wide-eyed at the brightly colored packages balanced in his arms, as if they held the secrets to the universe.

"Who else would they be for?"

Harry broke out into an even bigger grin.

"Do you know where I can put these?"

"Uhuh!" Harry nodded. He pointed down the narrow hallway. "Aunt 'Tunia says put them on the kitchen table, and then go outside for refres-cha-ments."

"That's _refreshments, _munchkin. You got it." He headed into the house. "I'll see you in a minute."

"Bye!" Harry went back to waving, watching him go.

His experience in the house was significantly different than it was two years ago. For one, it didn't look like only a family of three resided in the house. There were pictures of Harry –though few and much smaller than the other photos– on the walls. The toys that littered the floor of the living room on his left smelled distinctly like Harry and the pig-child, even the cupboard felt like normal. The heinous miasma previously encasing it was almost nonexistent.

Inside the kitchen he carefully set his gifts down with the growing pile. Harry was a popular kid, with a lot of generous friends. He'd really come into his own since starting school and joining the football club.

Benjamin made his way to the backyard. The giraffe was outside. She expertly weaved in and out of the adult crowd with plates of fancy finger sandwiches, drinks, and tasteful jokes. The few trees and bushes planted in the backyard were laden with cheap party streamers and tiny glimmering lights. If Benjamin looked behind him he'd see a sign with 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!' hung above the back door.

The children were divided off. A third of them were fascinated with a pimply teenager doing cheap magic tricks, another third of them were yelling their demands at a haggard balloon specialist; the last third played a group of tag and babbled excitedly amongst one another. The party setup was nice — nowhere near the scale she had set up for her precious Duddykins (the neighborhood was still reeling over the zoo), but it was a commendable effort.

He gravitated toward the gaggle of adults crowded to the right side of the yard. He was glad the giraffe had sense enough to invite Harry's football team. He'd been to most of the practices and matches, and was on the first-name basis with the moms and older teenagers. They were much more engaging than the other mundanes of Little Whinging.

"Benjamin! There you are!" Ruby, a short blonde roped him into the group by the arm. "As I was telling Jessica— she just backed up— without even looking might I add…!"

See? No conversations about their kids or housework duties. No drivel about their humdrum nine to five desk jobs. Actual conversation. He jumped in with the others, giving sympathetic nods and making snide comments here and there.

Benjamin counted fifteen more children before the giraffe was gone. She came back seconds later with Harry behind her. The giraffe picked up her silver tray. She didn't waste any time before delving back into her guests. She took no notice of Harry, who stood on the patio, taking in the view.

'Whoa', Harry mouthed. He pushed up his glasses –still too big for his tiny face– then ran forward, eagerly joining his party guests.

It was easy for Benjamin to shift into a more comfortable position, for him to focus on the bubble of people around him. Harry was within his sights; safe and carefree. He was able to relax.

The giraffe allowed the kiddies to play around for a good hour and half before she announced, "Cake!". Cake was a magical word. The kids dropped their toys to the ground, their games were already forgotten as they raced to the long wooden bench overlaid with a balloon-themed table sheet. It was a tight squeeze, but the children made it work- peacefully too. Benjamin was reasonably surprised, as were the other parents; kids were bloodthirsty little buggers in situations involving seats.

Harry sat in the middle. His birthday hat still firmly on his head. His green eyes followed the giraffe as she sat the huge cake, shaped and colored into a football (just like last year) in front of him. Neon Green icing had been used to write 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" in flowing script. Seven striped flickering candles rimmed the outside.

Indira, one of the only two girls on Harry's football team, lead in the yowls of dying cats— ahem, children– singing, "Happy Birthday!"

Benjamin stood in the background, among the other parents. There he heard the distinctive sound of Harry inhaling, saw him hold his breath, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's- and the dramatic exhale. The flames were out in a simultaneous poof of wispy smoke.

"CAKE!" the rippling exclamation among the children as they impatiently held out their plastic plates for their slice. Harry, ever the helper, passed out plastic forks to his guests and waited until everybody had their piece before he held out his own plate for his.

He heard Harry's quiet mutter of, "thank you." Then came the thundering shout of, "HEY! THOSE ARE HARRY'S PRESENTS!"

Chattering ceased. All eyes followed the scream to the perpetrator… s.

The pig-child and his rat-faced friend were unwisely seated in the middle of the backyard, ripping open Harry's gifts. How? When? Benjamin wanted to know, but he'd save the questions for later. He flinched with each sharp rip of the paper, and winced with every gleeful laugh and derisive snort let out as they tore at the gifts. They, the adults and children, gawked on in abject horror at the piggy and rat; not one word was said to stop them.

The pig-child and rat adopted a cruel method; the gifts they liked and felt were too good for Harry were immediately broken; the normal gifts: the clothes, the handmade cards, and toys that couldn't be broken easily, which weren't many, were thrown into a careless heap.

Benjamin's gaze slid to Harry. His munchkin was on the bench. Eyes wide. Hat askew. Green icing doted the corners of his lips. Benjamin belatedly realized he was tense. He was waiting for the moment he'd see Harry's lips wobble and for the scent of salty tears, only they never came.

Harry's fists clenched, his nostrils flared, and his mouth set in a harsh line. His big eyes, normally lit in joy or awe, were thinned into narrowed, inscrutable slits as he focused on his party crashers. Benjamin had never seen his munchkin like this, anger was a new facet.

Would he be witness to Harry's first fight— "MUM! MUM! MUMMY! HELP ME!"

Benjamin turned to the sound of the piggy squealing for his sow. What a sight to behold! He had been a witness to many, many extraordinary events over the decades, but he'd never seen anything like this before.

Fluorescent bows shot through the air like mini rockets, hitting the running rat-child. The piggy on the other hand wasn't so lucky. Snakes of torn ribbon slithered through the grass, the animated pieces of cloth began to slink up the piggy's fat rolls and twine and twist into thick knots onto the struggling child.

Afterwards, the tattered pieces of wrapping paper… in all his one hundred and ninety-six years, Benjamin hadn't the words. He was as shell-shocked as the others around him, he couldn't find the gumption to move an inch, let alone make the effort to end the horror show in front of him.

The wrapping paper was the final touch. It flew onto the piggy and rat, firmly latching itself and it wrapped. Adeptly. Two lone pink frilled bows with white tags hopped onto the incapacitated boys, the small scrawl of To: Harry Potter was visible.

There was the pause that seemed to silence to world. Then, the twin shrieks: "DUDLEY!" "PIERS!"

"Two extra gifts for me," Benjamin heard Harry mumble. He looked to Harry. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't Harry looking like the cat that had just eaten the canary.

What in the seven layers? Did Harry have something to do with this? And, if he did, how? He studied Harry for a few more seconds, hoping that somehow more information would reveal itself. As expected, none came forth.

He sighed. He brushed back a few strands of black hair. What was he thinking? He was being suspicious of a little boy that had just turned seven-years-old, the same little boy that hadn't moved an inch from his spot since the weird shindig had started. The same boy that barely reached his hip! There was no way Harry was connected, at least, that was what his mind told him. Why was his gut telling another story?

**/**

Around quarter past eight, every morning, the neighborhood was roused by Petunia Dursley's cries of utter terror. When Benjamin asked Harry about the incidents, he grinned sunnily, replying along the lines of: "I helped Aunt Tunia with breakfast. I made the plates float over to them, and I only messed up once! Ooh, I learned how to pour everyone's juice without spilling it, too!"

Benjamin chalked that up to a classic case of imagination. No child could make things float. Then again, no child should be able to manipulate fire like he had done in his own childhood. Amun did say prevalent abilities in rare, gifted individuals tend to present themselves at this age. Though playing the devil's advocate, Harry hadn't made anything float or had done anything unusual in his presence.

He settled on an overactive imagination, and the giraffe being overly dramatic. Sound reasoning on his part.

_Except._

The giraffe never stopped screaming and the whale was beginning to roar. Around the clock. Why?

As August waned, a familiar patten ensued. Raised voices. Harry was brought or sent over to his house. He interrogated Harry, who was all brilliant smiles, armed with childish replies of: "I made the TV work again!" ; "I touched it (it usually being an electronic device) and it broke!" ; "I made the toys move and build by themselves!" ; "I turned Dudley's hair pink and frizzy like a Troll doll!"

How was he supposed to respond to that, besides a pat on the head and a, "Of course you did." It wasn't until Harry was on his doorstep, a haggard giraffe at his side, that he began to believe in Harry's capabilities.

"Dudley has an appointment today. Keep him!" she hissed at him as she pushed Harry forward. She didn't even wait for his response, click-clacking away from his house, muttering, "that devil child is ruining my Duddykins."

What an amusing woman the giraffe was.

"So, munchkin, what do you want to do today?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Play outside." Harry said.

"Easy enough. Hang on for a minute, I'll be right back. I'm just going to get the ball."

Harry nodded in understanding, his black hair flopping with every movement.

Benjamin decided against using his vampiric speed to grab the ball. He was becoming more human each day. He jogged upstairs and grabbed the black and white ball. He was back downstairs in under a minute.

Snake was his first thought.

When—Where—_How _was Harry holding a snake? Normally, that wouldn't be a cause to freak. England's snakes were mostly harmless. However, it wasn't a garden snake or harmless adder Harry was holding. Nope, he couldn't be that lucky. His seven-year-old munchkin was sitting on his porch weighed down by a humongous, yellow and white... monster of a snake, corded tightly around him as if he were some tree branch or dinner. Benjamin stood there, jaw agape.

Harry was a different story. A regular human response would be an elevated heartbeat, violent struggling, cries for help— something to get out the snake's wrangling grasp. Not Harry. Harry, his small, fragile Harry, was as cool as a cucumber. He lovingly stroked the snake's diamond-shaped scales like it was some treasured pet, hissing and giggling at it. Harry did a spot-on impression of snake. The snake flicked out its tongue, hissing back.

Maybe not an impression… normal humans didn't speak snake, right?

"Harry?" he called, cautious.

"Hi Benjamin!" Harry wiggled a hand out of the mounds of coils around him, waving. "This is Stiles!" he pointed to the snake. Said snake turned orange-red eyes on him. "He escaped from his evil owner!" The snake flicked out its forked tongue. It—He turned to Harry, hissing loudly. Harry scrunched his button nose. "He says you smell like a predator and you feel dead. He says it's weird."

If only his heart hadn't already stopped beating… that damn snake.

He forced out an awkward laugh. "He's right, that is weird. Maybe his snakey-senses are off?"

"Maybe… hey, you got the ball!" He grinned. Harry jabbered to Stiles the Snake in what could only be described as snake speak. He was wildly gesturing and pointing between Benjamin and ball. He had a bad feeling about this. "Stiles wants to play!" Harry announced in English.

"Harry, I don't thi—"

"Pretty please, Benjamin!" Harry pleaded, clasping his hands together. He could practically feel his resistance to this terrible idea erode away with every second he held Harry's pleading gaze.

"Harry," cue a faux smile and resigned shift of the shoulders. "Let's show Stiles how to play some football."

Harry cheered. He didn't know why he tried sometimes. What Harry wanted, he always did his best to procure.

In the scheme of events, Benjamin wished everything was as easy as snake football.

**/ /**

School started in early September. Harry was excited for his upcoming school year as a Year Three. He stood beside Benjamin outside the gates for his first day of school, bouncing on the balls of his feet and prattling on about the friends he hadn't seen in weeks and the teachers he hoped he'd get. Benjamin nodded along, periodically interjecting with sage advice for Harry.

Before long, the gates were open, and the children rushed in. Harry gave him a quick hug, and then he was rushing to join the other kids. He was no longer the last one in.

Harry was chattering excitedly with a redheaded boy, but he remembered to turn back and wave to Benjamin. A few moments later, Harry was gone. Benjamin couldn't be happier, school was an environment where Harry thrived. Maybe, if he dared to hope, that would be where his talents would go back to being dormant.

It succeeded for a good three months, until Harry came home with his first yellow note: somehow Harry had gotten a hold of supplies that were on the top shelf and lied about how he'd gotten them. Harry's reply to that was they came to him.

A month later, another note followed the first. Harry was turning his classmates' hair whatever color they desired, and for giggles he had made his teacher's hair a sky blue without her knowing. Parents were complaining, because the dye refused to come out, and Harry insisted he hadn't used any dye at all. He made it happen on his own, he only had to wish hard enough, and it came true.

Two weeks later, Benjamin witnessed Harry on the football field. As usual, he moved like a sylph, the ball at his toes at all times. He paused to make a shot into the goal, and it didn't go in— or, there was no possible way the shot could have made it, but before his eyes, in an amazing amount of one-in-a-million coincidences, the breezes blew a little hard, the ball rolled back, bounced once, twice, hitting the goal post at just the right angle- and it was in!

The giraffe and whale were tight-lipped (aside from the occasional yell) concerning Harry's new-found gifts. All the notes Harry had brought home were swiftly signed and sent back. All suggested parent-teacher conferences were ignored. They refused to acknowledge the growing problem, still firmly entrenched in la-la land. The notes were getting longer, more anxious, more insistent — yet they chose to do nothing. Maybe Benjamin had exaggerated, one thing had changed with the Dursleys; their treatment of Harry. Since his requests, the Dursley's and their relationship with Harry had been on the positive side. But, since Harry's abilities had manifested, there was a dramatic increase in the number of burning glares and poisoned-filled whispers directed at Harry when they thought Benjamin couldn't see or hear.

He sensed the Dursley's were the beginning, like the humid air and dark clouds before a huge storm. It was a matter of time before Harry's classmates started to shun him. Before the teachers became scared. Before Harry's little world became an isolated bubble. Humans did not like what they couldn't understand, or justify. They went out of their way to explain the unexplainable, and drag anything and everything out of the welcoming dark and into the harsh, unforgiving light.

It all came to a head with a single phone call from the school. "The fire department is on its way. Harry is on the roof."

He didn't even pause. He dropped the phone, rushing out the door. He ran, pushing the extent of his vampiric speed until his surroundings were a blur of colors and smells. He arrived at Barnsbury within five minutes; the school was already gated off by police cars, a fire engine, and even an ambulance. The bobbies were also pushing back the gathering crowd of curious onlookers and a small television crew. The firefighters were already working on suppressing the fire.

Benjamin's eyes darted up to the top of the school. He tried to look past the spiraling metal chimneys and air vents.

A flip switched on inside him. It was like he had tunnel vision, none of these pathetic humans mattered. It was just Harry. He couldn't see him, but he could certainly feel him. Harry was up there, sending off wave after wave of anxiety and misery, it was enough to completely engulf him. Why weren't they going faster? Did they not hear the wracking sobs above, the muffled pleas of, "I want to get down! Please, Please, Please! I want to get down! I'm stuck, help me, help!"

The humans were being infuriatingly slow, they were like narcoleptic zombies under ball and chain. He could scale the school within in seconds and get Harry down from there. Harry needed him!

Slow. Slow. Slow. They were too damn slow, every nth of a second wasted felt like an eternity. Harry was in distress. Calling out to him, pleading for—

"Sir," someone said, pushing against his chest. He kept moving. Eyes on the brick building. The hoses. The siren's song ensnaring above, compelling him. "Bac… from...buil. We're…doi… eve… sir!"

It was like he was being repeatedly ducked in water. There was overhead where his rationale laid, where reality was in full swing. There was down here in the water, where reality was washed away and words came to him in garbled messes; not that he cared a lick, because he was being pulled deeper, deeper into a watery abyss closer, closer to something—someone that laid at the bottom reaching for him—

"Petunia Dursley? Thank God!"

He halted. He spun around to see Petunia Dursley. Her red lips were pulled tight. Her crow's feet prominent as she squinted at the harried women in front of her, gesticulating and sweating buckets.

"We don't know how Mr. Potter got up there, Mr. Peters, the geography teacher outside for break time, reported a loud noise like a car backfiring and then the students were saying Mr. Potter disappeared onto the roof! We're doing everything we can!"

The giraffe wasn't listening. Benjamin doubted she cared.

"– if the news team happens to talk to you..."

The giraffe licked her lips. "I want my nephew," she said crisply.

"Of course! He should be down any minute, I'm sorry to ask for your patience. I'm sure this must be a terrifying experience for you," she flushed. "As it is for us too! We're using all resources for an expedient rescue."

What a nervous woman.

A sharp crackling sound stemmed from the walkie-talkie on the woman's hip. "We've got him. Repeat. We've got him. No injuries sustained."

The woman jumped in obvious surprise. She picked up the walkie. "Confirmed!" She replied. She grinned widely at the giraffe. "We've got him, he's safe and sound."

"Wonderful," the giraffe said dryly.

The woman in front of her continued to talk, more relaxed. Benjamin took that as his cue to move. He stepped back with a small grin. "Sorry for the trouble," he apologized. He heading towards the giraffe's position.

"Hello."

The giraffe choked. She flinched when she faced him, eyeing him like she expected him to attack. "What are you doing here?" She asked, with an accusatory glower.

"I'm listed as an emergency contact. Obviously, they called me when they failed to contact you."

The giraffe clutched her purse, glaring at him. "I was out buying groceries. I came as soon as possible."

Lies. "Reall—?"

"Here you go," said the firefighter gently. Petunia Dursley's presence died right then. Harry was in front of them. He was clutching onto the firefighter's hand, ghostly pale, eyes rimmed cherry red; shaken.

"Harry, I'm relieved to see you're alright," the giraffe said, her voice coated in sickly sweet honey. She held out a gloved hand.

Harry took a wobbly step toward her.

"Harry," he attempted. Green eyes landed on him. There was no contest. Harry abruptly let go on the firefighter's hand, sprinting to him. Benjamin scooped him up, rocking and shushing him as his crying began anew. "If we have no more business here, Petunia, let's go."

She followed him.

**/ / /**

They were sat in the living room of number four. He had initially wanted Harry to find comfort in a familiar setting, like his bedroom upstairs, surrounded by his favorite playthings and whatnot, but Harry refused to let him go, crying that he'd get that funny feeling and disappear again to some, bigger, higher unreachable place.

So there he sat on the beige couch, with Harry on his lap. The giraffe was sitting to the right of him in a plush sofa, a cup of Earl Grey and plate of biscuits held tight in her hand. She sipped while Benjamin sat there, running deft fingers through Harry's tangled locks, humming some nameless tune until Harry succumbed to sleep.

He studied Harry. The tension was gone from his small body, his breathing even, the tear tracks drying. Light snores emitting from him every seventy-seven seconds. Hopefully, his dreams would be filled with good things.

His attention shifted to the giraffe who was pointedly staring at the faux Persian carpet.

"What is he?" he asked bluntly.

"Excuse me?!" She balked.

"Don't pretend to be hard of hearing, Petunia. I'll ask once more: what is he?"

"I–I don't know wh—"

He was towering over her in a blink of an eye, his incisors out and lengthened, coated in glistening venom. He growled lowly- a subtle warning. "I will rip out your throat and leave you to drown in your own blood." She whimpered. "Do not test me.**What. Is. He?**" he growled again.

She gulped hard, trying and failing to control her shaking. "A wizard."


	4. Chapter 4

Long story short for my senior year (or A-levels/Year 13 in other places) I decided to challenge myself with five fucking AP (college courses) and oh my god, I'm like treading water. I literally only do homework and sleep. I can't do anything else but that and now I have to start worrying about applying to fucking colleges and universities and that's a headache in itself. It's just a lot. A lot. But I'm slowly chipping away at this story little by little, I so apologize for the long wait.

In this chapter Benjamin has been a very, very bad boy. I hope you guys in enjoy this chapter, I apologize for any mistakes that hinder any reading ability. I promise all will be resolved in the next one. Thanks as always for those that review, fav, and alert.

**BETA'D BY BEST: _THE WISTFUL BLOOM!_**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

He forgot how to breathe.

_Exquisite smells surround him — cocooning him in the freshest of scents. He races down the building tops. Running and jumping, laughing because this was his — his night as God in the old world._

He slackened.

_He's like a child let into a sweet shop, pockets heavy with money. There are hundreds of treats to choose from. All beckoning him with their saccharine smells. He runs as he observes the merchandise, giddy with the unlimited choices laid before him._

Disbelief invaded.

_Yet he is the pickiest of eaters. There is no limit to the amount of treats he is allowed, but he wants his first taste to be the best. The absolute best to commemorate his first night out. So he speeds onward, peeking down, waiting until his nose picks out the greatest prize._

He turns to the direction of the couch, his eyes lingering longer than necessary.

_It hits him. It hits him hard. He jerks in place, hastily braking. He's a flurry of spins, ridiculous and ecstatic, until he concedes to a point on a low building. West, his nose points. His eyes, as sharp as a hawk's, picks up nothing under the blanket of dark besides grainy sand and lesser food traipsing about. He trusts his senses. He jumps and sets off._

A growl was building. His stomach twisted.

_Too fast for human eyes. He can't move fast enough. In an nth of second, he is there. In front of his sweets. He bounces on his heels and lets his grin spread as he stands there; there are three of them. They are dressed in fine dark colored robes, a rainbow coalition of men on the outside, but their blood sings to him in the same way. All of them carry that odd intangible zest of something otherworldly_.

His environment began to fade, focused on the couch, zoned in on his prey.

"_Where the hell did you come from?" The dark-skinned one shouts._

_"Cairo." He says. It's the truth, the place is where he lived, he died_, _and was reborn._

_"Get out of here!" The same man shouts again. He can see the clear spittle flying from his mouth. He is angry at being interrupted. Interrupted from what, he cannot tell, but the man points a long, thin stick at him._

_"No." He whispers into the man's ear, behind _him. The man lets out a gasp of surprise —_that's all he gets— and one move he lurches forward, pulling back the neck of the robe, and dives in. Straight to the artery. Gods, is it divine!_

He put one foot in front of the other.

_Warm liquid slips down his throat. His treat continues to struggle; "No!" He'd reprimand him if his mouth wasn't busy. Instead, his fangs dig deeper into his neck, forcing him in stay in place._

"_Stop!" One of the others regains their voice, "stop or we will—!"_

_"Boreas!" The last one shouts. He's so focused on his tasty meal he never sees what causes it! It hauls him back with the force of a gelid, gale wind, drawing him from his meal and slamming him against the brick wall. He crumples and slides down in chunks, stunned. The humans are all huddled together in front of him. One of them jabs another stick at his face, the other helps his current meal who is clutching his bloodied neck. The helper switches between squinted glares and hushed murmurs of comfort._

_It's laughable. He laughs and laughs. Was this what Amun saw when viewing him through godly eyes? How utterly interesting humans are! So weak! So fragile, they are wrought with a thousand and one flaws! But always full of surprises!_

_"How dare you laugh?! Monster! I will destroy you!"_

_He falls deeper into hysterics. Mere mortals destroying Gods! The very idea!_

_"Incendio!"_

His prey was dangerous. He knelt down and smelled that same honeyed smell that ensnared him a few, short years ago. He leaned in, his incisors drawing out…

_A bright, orange-red flame shoots out at him— he titters. This is how they intend to destroy him? With his born element! He raises a single hand to catch this flame, to make it into his own—_

Sleepy green eyes, framed by tiny black eyelashes, blink open. His prey sits up, yawning. "Ben… jah… min?"

_He's never felt a flame so hot, a flame that burns! **It burns, it burns, it burns—**_

Harry. Benjamin felt as if he had been slapped. He was going—just like— Harry would be—His fangs had never retracted so fast. Harry rubbed his eyes, staring at him… Benjamin couldn't! He couldn't stay here.

He threw a glance at the cowardly giraffe pressed against the sofa felt. "Take care of him," he said.

He stood up.

Harry reached out a hand. "Benjamin, you can't go, what if—!"

He moved with his supernatural speed out of Harry's grasp and he didn't think to pause until he was back in his own house.

He mechanically sat down on his sofa and stared blankly at the TV. His VCR blinked red.

_He can't find the strength to move from the wall. Escape from the flame that eats away his skin and bones, all he can do is scream to the high heavens and hope for the pain to end soon. He thinks that he'll enjoy death, and the relief that it'll surely bring, until a ferocious roar rips such thoughts into shreds. He finds strength, no matter how little, in that roar- because he knows it! Amun_!

_He senses Tia crouching in front of him. She belts out her share of chilling growls. The burning is gone, and he can hear the desperate cries of help and screeches of 'Stop!'. There are squishes and rips, the pungent odor of blood and it seems that all the Chaos of the world has boiled down to this moment of time._

_It's gone before he really even notices. The world suddenly too silent._

_He licks his new lips. He can't wait until his eyes are back. He needs to see, to search through the blood of his would-be executioners and see what has made a god such as him feel fear for the first time, to make fire turn traitor to him_.

_The buzzing around his eyes recedes and he opens them. His vision back to its hawk-like precision. Tia eases back into her usual stance and steps aside. Amun is covered in splatters of dark blood, fenced by dismembered limbs. His mouth is pulled back into a snarl. "What were you thinking?! All my time spent searching and hiding you away, giving you a better life! All my hard work could have been erased in one night. What do you have say, you foolish boy!"_

"_I wasn't aware that humans could do that," he responds._

_Amun rumbles. Tia shakes her head._

"_They were priests of Isis…"_

_Priest. Shaman. Magician. Enchanter. Warlock. Witch. Whatever. He vows to never cross them again._

Glued to his seat, Benjamin wondered what his plan of action will be. As a vampire, his first instinct would be to eradicate the threat — Harry. But he couldn't act on instinct. Benjamin's wish was to survive, and survival meant sticking to his promise from all of those years ago. He needed to keep away from all magic practitioners. Including Harry.

The idea shouldn't have caused him to frown and fidget, or feel like his stomach was full of lead. Except it did. That was a problem.

But it couldn't be a problem. His senses were already haywire. His vampiric and rational side were working together for once. If he recognized Harry as a threat— which he did— then there were no more questions. He had to leave. But, but... but... … was there a but? Harry. He snorted, his right leg jerking up and down.

Air. He needed air to think.

He stood up and headed to the front door. He pocketed his wallet and house keys. He was going for a little walk.

/

A little walk turned into a trek, then, he was in a cozy hostel. Eden, it was named. He handed over his credit card and I.D. to an aging, blond receptionist with lipstick stained teeth. He tapped away at the small wooden counter, sending glances over here and there rattling off the necessary information needed to stay.

"How long do you intend to stay?" she asked.

"I don't know," he wanted to say. "How long does it take to get rid of one attachment to a green-eyed munchkin?" He swallowed the response, opting for a light shrug. "Seven days, I guess."

"Alright love, if you decide to stay later, or leave earlier, just give us ring from your room," she said as she handed him his cards back, plus a room key. "Enjoy your stay."

Benjamin flashed her a smile. "I'll try."

It took effort to play human. To pretend like you cared. Humans were social animals. He was not too surprised when a young girl latched onto him in the hostel dormitory. He didn't bother to learn her name, though, he was sure she'd told him at least three times and it started with an E. He simply distinguished the human girl by her curly, red hair, and the peculiar scent of apples she carried.

Her mouth hadn't stopped moving since he stepped foot in the room. He obliged her though, summoning some degree of effort to have a rather lively one-sided conversation.

He knew that if he paused even for a moment, his thoughts would be rerouted to Harry. He wanted to forget about Harry, and stay away from him, and yet here he was, thinking of his little human probably getting ready for bedtime. He better have brushed his teeth. Harry had a nasty habit of 'forgetting' to brush his teeth. Hopefully, the giraffe had assuaged any fears of him and his random acts of teleportation, and helped him with his Literacy homework, double-checked over his Maths homework (because Harry struggled with double-digits and simple fractions) and made sure he read from his reading book every night. Did his munchkin remember to stretch at football practice? Harry also had a habit of not taking the time to stretch properly, and then complaining of aches and bruises. Somebody really had to watch over him. He'd promised that he'd make Harry's team Basbousa if they won their football—

"Benny?"

Benjamin's eyes flicked from the bed comforter to the girl staring at him with obvious concern. She curled closer around his right arm. "Benny," she repeated. He hated the bastardization of his name. "Are you alright? You stopped breathin—"

"Do you want to go out later tonight, like a club or something?"

She glowed at the invitation. "I'd love too! I know just the place!" She ripped from him. She flounced of the bed, jiggling the mattress as she went. "I have to get ready!"

Benjamin had to admit the girl was amusing. She flailed around in her limited space as she played a game of stepping over the other occupants and apologizing as she gathered her own miscellaneous items, somehow already strewn throughout the room. Finally, she seemed to have everything she needed — she sent him a single sheepish grin before she dashed out of the room.

He supposed he needed to get ready, too. He rolled off his bedroll and began his walk to the men's bathroom. This club thing needed to work.

/

Before he was fully aware he was pulled into a dingy place named East, stuck under a stream of probing multicolored lights and packed into a sea of sweaty bodies. It was easy to get lost in the sway of the heavy beat and to forget his troubles. Here, he was nothing, yet something. A mere passing face among the many drifters. Then, he was picked like a ripe fruit from a tree and he let himself be dragged out of the crowd.

Amid the bursts of light he caught flashes of red hair— E was pushing him through the throng of people packed as tight as sardines until they were alone in a darkened hallway with a single door on the right. She twisted around to give him a dazzling smile, then, she was urging him through the door.

There was nothing behind the door— that's what she wanted— it was just a small, dark space. E latched onto him as soon as the door slammed shut behind them. She didn't waste any time for words, she pressed herself against the wall, her pleated skirt hiked up her quivering pale thighs, his hand guided by her own pushed against her wet sex, stroking the bundle of nerves that had the E panting out wet gasps and struggling to get closer.

"He's watching," E said.

His fingers froze. E shook her head. "No, no, no; move," she hissed, "he won't stick around if—," he cut off her with the slide of his thumb. He doesn't know who He is, but Benjamin does as he is told. His pace was languid, watching E moan and writhe because of him. When this is over, he thought, I'll drain her dry. There is nothing quite like a human giddy and squirming after sex.

He rubbed her faster, his fingers a blur as they thrust. He leaned forward, sensing E's impending climax, calculating the moment to pounce.

The door was flung open and dim light from the hall streams in. His fingers never pause, although his stare moves from E, still up against the wall, to the doorway. A boy is stood there, eyeing them with strange apathy. "Eve," he drawled. Eve snaps out of the haze of pleasure. She pushed away from Benjamin, standing up on two shaking legs and fussing with her clothes.

"Go," the boy said to Eve. He waved a dismissive hand and Eve scurried passed them. Now, there was only them. Benjamin wiped his fingers on his jeans, studying the boy.

He was young and short, shorter than average, with a waif-like body. He was pale as milk, he looked like the fantasy vampire, those without sunlight and blood. He was inked too… a large black number two stood on his diminutive Adam's apple, and the number sixteen was carved on the left side of his neck, and seventeen on the right. His eyes were the color of murky dishwater, and his hair was as red and bright as a fire-truck.

"I've been watching you," said the boy.

"So I've heard." Benjamin responded impishly. The boy smiled at him, two perfect rows of white.

"I want you," he said loftily, "and I mean to have you."

"Alright then." He stepped closer to the boy. "My place or yours?"

"Follow me," the boy said, allowing Benjamin room enough to leave the closet. He waited until Benjamin was beside him and together they descended further down the hallway.

/

The next few days were a whirlwind. It was a tossup between fucking and injecting every illegal drug he could get his hands on into his system. Of course, the drugs didn't do anything for him, and the sex was meaningless, but dammit it felt like freedom. This was the air he craved to clear his mind. The boy —just called the boy— was like a dream-catcher. He kept every thought about Harry away. Benjamin reveled in it. He greedily latched onto the redheaded boy, seriously contemplating if this was where he belonged.

Maybe one day he could love the nameless boy he fucked every night and got high with. Maybe he could move down here, wherever here was, and create a new identity. Maybe in ten years, if he stayed long enough, and this nameless redheaded boy held a name and a definite place in his memory, he'd offer him immortality- and a place by his side.

Maybe, he told himself, when he rolled off of him and pretended to sleep. Maybe.

He didn't account for the redheaded boy to be so sure of his feelings for him so soon. Benjamin was on the bed, watching some bright, glittery game show. The boy was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, and staring at him with a dopey half-grin, not unlike the one he usually wore after he'd smoked a blunt.

"I want you," he said.

"I'm aware."

"Stay with me."

"Aren't I?" Benjamin flickered his attention to the silly boy. The boy shook his head. He padded over to him and made a place for himself in Benjamin's lap.

"No," the boy dropped a kiss on his collarbone. "I mean stay permanently. Run East with me, live up here with me, fight me, **_bite me_**, fuck with me— stay with me."

Benjamin blinked. What was he supposed to say… "May I," he licked his lips and attempted a genial grin. "Go outside to think for a bit?"

The boy pouted but nonetheless allowed him to go. "I'll see you in a bit." He pressed a kiss to his lips.

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah."

/

Another quick escape for air had him back in Surrey, milling down the paved streets of the cookie-cutter suburbs. Lady Luck deserted him the moment he stepped on his front walk. A familiar silver SUV pulled up onto the driveway of number 4. His best bet would have been to flee into the safety of his house before the ignition shut off— the motor's soft purr cut off— and the doors slid open.

His feet and brain weren't connecting.

His eyes followed the giraffe, dressed in jeans and faux cashmere, the beach-ball stuffed in a thick coat. Harry was the last out of the vehicle. His football kit, green and white, was painted with dark mud, and his knobby knees were dressed in oozing cuts and clumps of grass. His wire-rimmed glasses, still slightly too big for his face, hung askew on his button nose. His cheeks were smeared with rosy flush, the little lips twitching at every interval. He was clutching a gold trophy.

The urge to go and give his munchkin a hug overwhelmed him. He didn't think it was possible to miss someone this much.

"Hey! Look, Harry! Your boyfriend's back!" Was the mocking jeer from the beach-ball.

The spell was broken.

Harry shuddered. He could hear his breath hitch, even from across the road— if he believed in a higher power he'd pray for the Earth to be merciful and swallow him up before Harry had the chance to look upon him. He didn't want Harry to look at his pathetic self, salted with piss, sweat, semen, and every hallucinogen under the sun. The Earth did not comply. He was still there, frozen, as if dipped in tar. Harry saw him.

Harry's heartbeat was all Benjamin could hear, thudding in his ears. A foot pressed forward, "Harry—"

He snapped back at his name. He glared at him with green fire then left, running back into the house. The door slammed shut behind him. It took Benjamin a few seconds to realize that awful, squirmy feeling buzzing around in his innards was guilt.

He squashed it down as best he could. Which is to say, he squashed it down none. He opened his door and stepped inside. He closed the door with one hand and placed his keys on the table with the other. A precursory glance of his bottom floor told him everything was in the same place, nothing had moved. He walked to his couch and sat down.

There he sat. And he sat. And he sat.

He hadn't moved a muscle, nor had he blinked in the days since Harry had run back into the house. Instead, he had acted like a supernatural stalker, and sat there and listened for the sounds of Harry every day. His munchkin left the house promptly at quarter to seven Monday through Friday, running down the pavement with swift footfalls and hissing breaths. He never failed to murmur a quiet goodbye to the giraffe –something that astounded Benjamin even now– and he was scampering down the road. Gone, Gone, Gone.

Benjamin's world was quiet when Harry left. Scarily so. It was as if he were a broken, old radio, and he could only pick up one signal. Nothing else. When Harry left for the day he went back to counting —one million, one hundred thousand three, one million, one hundred thousand four…— he passed the hours like this, waiting for the familiar heartbeat. And, when he had it, the world began to expand.

Sound and life were suddenly brought back, and his lips could do nothing but curl into a smile. Harry ran down the road, always home before the giraffe and the pig. However, he never went inside, and Benjamin knew the front door wasn't locked. Harry skidded to the front door and... nothing— Benjamin wondered if Harry was staring at the house, trying to see him, maybe hoping that he'd finally come out? Or was that wishful thinking on his part? Either way, he was quiet before the giraffe and pig-child were home. Then, he was back inside, working on homework before football practice.

Benjamin's favorite part of the day was listening to Harry sleep. He could see Tia right now, giving him a hard stare for this nonsense. Harry's heartbeat slowed to rhythmic lull, snoring lightly at intervals. If he listened, he almost felt sleepy himself.

One million, seven hundred thousand five… one million, seven hundred thousand six… one million, seven hundred thousand seven… a sharp rapping against his door. His eyes rolled back down from the ceiling to the door, slow as molasses. Who? Another rap against his door, and the little cheery chime reverberating through his home.

He couldn't deny his curiosity. So, he glided up from his seat and to the door. It was definitely a surprise to see Petunia Dursley darkening his doorstep. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms.

"Petunia," he said curtly.

She fingered the large silver cross around her neck. That hadn't been there before. "Benjamin," she sniffed, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

Benjamin cleared his throat. "What would you like to ask me?"

"I'd like to invite to you to tea. At one."

"Pardon?" He could barely believe what she had just said.

"Tea," she repeated, speaking to him as if he were slow, "at one. Today. Don't be late."

He was sure he resembled a dead fish. She merely nodded at him. "I'll see you. Goodbye."


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys. I'm baaaack! For good, who knows? I have a good reason to be gone. I had to finish up all the college applications and I turned eighteen. I got accepted into three universities and I'm waiting to hear back from three more. Fingers crossed ladies and gents. Anyways, I recommend going back to read the last chapters because they have been beta'd and extra information has been added. I apologize for the short length of this chapters. Any mistakes found are mine.

Review maybe… thanks to all my favoriters, alerters, reviewers, and lurkers.

**Beta'd by the stupendous: _THE WISTFUL BLOOM!_**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Benjamin soaked in the warmth of his teacup, his fingers tapping against the blue patterned ceramic. The giraffe was the very picture of a perfect housewife, her dress polka-dotted and not a hair out of place, her lips painted red. A small worn book laid to the right, along with a scaled holster. _If there's a silver cross stake in there, I'm gonna laugh._ The place was neat and orderly- it smelt of bleach and pine. There he was, still bathed in the musk of his adventure, his clothes torn and ripped. He felt out of place, sitting here in the small kitchen, at this little table with its pleated table cloth.

The giraffe sat across from him. They didn't talk. She sat and drank tea while he watched her every move. If this was a mind game, he promised that he'd win- he wouldn't be the first to break the silence. He was a creature gifted with an arsenal of supernatural attributes, and she was a puny human not even worthy enough to lick the ground he trod on.

"Benjamin," the giraffe said. She put her teacup down on her little plate. "Relax. You are a guest."

"I am relaxed." he said, a bit too sharp for his liking. "I'm just curious as to why you would invite me over for _tea. _I did choke your husband and threatened to tear your throat out." He grinned, waiting for the moment where her eyes would darken, or her smile would just become much more stretched, artificial- but the giraffe nodded, agreeing. Just what had happened while he was gone?

"You did."

Verbal acknowledgment, too. The hell.

"What the hell do you want?" he spat.

The giraffe picked her tea cup and sipped, wiping her mouth with a delicate tissue. "I've invited you over to talk about your recent act of cowardice, and its effect on my nephew."

Benjamin stiffened. "I asked you not to play me for dumb," his smile grew larger, "you're so transparent, Petunia Dursley. Don't bring Harry into this, like you care. This is about you, isn't it? You got a taste of power. You want to be turned, don't you? To escape your humdrum life? Is this your attempt to smooth over any bumpy edges and persuade me into turning you?"

The giraffe snorted in way that reminded Benjamin of her piggy son. "I would never want to be a godless freak of nature like you," she said without hesitation, "do try to be serious. I thought you truly cared for my nephew. Maybe I was mistaken."

"I care about Harry more than your family does!" Benjamin said, his hand curling around his teacup, "stop pretending you've ever spared a thought for him."

"All this anger," she said. She sipped at her tea. "My nephew speaks of you like you're some spirit of joviality, and you always seemed to be smiling and laughing. You leaving him is having an adverse effect on you, too. I didn't realize your relationship was so…" she searched for the word, "dependent."

"I am not dependent on a human."

"My nephew isn't human."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said raucously, "he has blood flowing in his veins. He eats, he shits, he talks, he's intelligent, he has emotion, he grows— he lives. He is human."

"But he isn't!" the giraffe cried, "he's a freak. Like you. A monster from under the bed. He's unnatural."

"Harry is _not_ unnatural. He is _perfectly_ normal," he argued. He hadn't felt this amount of anger since he first awoke as a vampire.

"Normal people don't make things float. Normal people don't turn into animals. _Normal_ people don't attract satanic creatures likes you," she said with a haughty sniff.

"Stop speaking about Harry like that. I swear I will rip your throat out."

"Why?" Her lips cornered into a half-smile, "you're a freak like him, yet he drove you away with his freakish powers."

"I didn't run away." It was a weak admission, even to his own ears.

"Alright," the giraffe shrugged. "You didn't run away, you tried to escape."

"Why did you call me over here, Petunia?"

"My nephew," she repeated. " He is dependent on you. Once you were gone, he became volatile."

"Volatile?"

"His... _magic," _she said the word like she was sucking on a lemon, "is acting up. It's dangerous! The plants in the yards are dead, they refuse to grow, the grass deadens at his feet. And my poor Dudders!" she sniffed, "he was trying to cheer him up –bless his heart– when the freak lashed out! Dudders had red welts for days!"

Magic was dangerous, but Harry would never— "Vernon has been talking about just dropping him off at an orphanage, and rightly so. I agree wholeheartedly with Vernon, we would wash our hands of this... freak—

"I dare you!" He pushed up from the table, white-hot anger pulsing within him, "you will not wash your hands of him as if he's some ugly vase your mother-in-law gave you. You are the freak here, the monster from under the bed— no, you're worse!"

Petunia smiled, her eyebrows raised. "So says the person who washed his hands of my nephew…"

"I came back."

"Hm? Really? To sell your home. You know, Margaret, the single mother with those horrid twins— yes, that one. She had the juiciest piece of gossip yesterday-apparently you're looking to sell? So, tell me, how long were planning to stay?"

"I-I-I-"

"You stutter, too. You couldn't come up with an excuse. You hate my nephew just as much as my family does. Why don't you go back to whatever hellhole you crawled out from, and let me do my business. It's clear you don't care enough, why bother putting up this false bravado? After all, we're both monsters."

Benjamin sat back down, at a loss. Nearly two hundred years old, and he had been argued into a corner by someone who wasn't even a third of his age.

"Why did you invite me for tea, Petunia?" Benjamin said. He brought his teacup closer, wishing for the first time in a long that he was able to ingest human substances. He propped a hand under his chin, staring at her. "I mean really. No more games."

"Lily, Harry's mother, was…" she shrugged, "like him. Same eyes. Same abilities. I didn't care much for her," she said stiffly, her grip on her teacup tightening, "when she died, the people of her world gave her remaining things to me: this journal, her wand, her trunk upstairs in the attic... and Harry."

"Why?" Benjamin asked.

Again Petunia shrugged. "What does it matter why? Those freaks are backwards people. Her rubbish is taking up precious space. Keep it or throw it away, I don't care I just want it gone."

Petunia slid the journal and holster to him with one of her snooty sniffs.

"Why give it to me?" Benjamin accepted the things, flinching at the burst of warmth that coursed through him when he touched them.

Petunia glanced at the her small wristwatch. "I have to take Dudley. Vernon's at work. Pick Harry up from school." She grabbed both her and his teacups. She didn't look at him.

"But, you didn't answer my question."

"He's let out at quarter past three." She breezed to the kitchen and went through the motions of pouring the tea out, and rinsing the cups and plates. She placed them on the drying rack before she grabbed her purse. Benjamin was at her heels as she walked out of the room. "I'll pick him up at six, but if I'm running more than fifteen minutes later, take him practice. I'll make sure to be there…"

"Wait! Hold on."

"He is to do his homework before practice, and his reading. His football kit should be in his backpack. If it isn't, don't worry, school will have spares."

"Petunia—" Why wasn't she listening?

They were outside. She had closed the front door and was in the process of locking it.

How did she get in her car so fast? She already had her seatbelt clicked into place and her mirror checked twice. "Petunia," he tried again.

"Where are my manners?" She gave him a facsimile of a smile. She turned the key in the ignition, her hands on the steering wheel. "Thank you, Benjamin," she said. She rolled up her window and looked behind her as she backed up out of the driveway. She waved at him once and left.

Dammit. He stood in the empty driveway for a good fifteen minutes. It hadn't occurred to him to run after the car, or even grab her… fuck. He stared down at the things given to him. What in the world? Why would she even bother to do those things, and say all that bullshit? Benjamin sucked in a breath: he was going to pick up Harry.

...

Quarter past three arrived in a flash. Benjamin swore he blinked and it was time. He walked as if on autopilot, there before his mind really had the chance to catch up. Things had never changed- most of the parents were huddled together talking about their boring lives and sending side-long glances toward him. Benjamin was distant, isolated from the group.

He tapped his foot on the pavement, sending small tremors through the earth, and crossed and uncrossed his arms again and again. His palms were unnaturally damp.

The human people wobbled on their feet as his foot tapping became more insistent. Sure, sometimes the children didn't pile out of the school gates until twenty past, but it was supposed to be three fifteen. Where were they? What was he waiting for? Each second that ticked by allowed his stomach to do another flip.

"Ah, here they are!"

Benjamin's fidgeting miraculously cured itself. He was met with the familiar sight of children rushing into the arms of their parents and siblings. He glossed over them. He only cared for one child: Harry Potter. Just as the thought tapered off, Harry came weaving through the crowd.

He watched him, frozen in place. What was he to do? Stay in place, and wait for Harry to come to him?

Harry chose for him. He briefly met eyes with him before he scrunched his face and stuck out his tongue. Gripping the straps of his bag, he headed his house with quick steps. Not once did he bother to turn around to see if Benjamin was following him.

He kept a good distance from him. He didn't know if he should speak. And, if he were to speak, what was he to say?

"Harry!" he called, "your Aunt told me to look after you for a while, she's taking your cousin to some appointment."

Harry gave no indication that he heard him. He simply stopped towards number four. He took precautionary glances left and right before trotting across the road to number five. He opened the door and let himself in.

Again, Benjamin had no choice but to follow. At least Harry had listened to him. That was a plus, right? He shut the door softly behind himself and shut the locks. Harry's backpack was neatly laid against the wall, to the left of the door. Its owner was in the living room, seated in the middle of the beige couch, stiff with his legs glued together, thin arms crossed, and face set in stone. Benjamin stood on the threshold.

"Would you like a snack, Mr. Grumpy?" Benjamin asked, mimicking Harry body language.

Harry said nothing.

"If you say nothing, I'll assume that means you want plain old water and carrots." Harry hated carrots with a passion.

Harry didn't even glance in his direction. The wall had all of his attention.

He frowned. He supposed he did deserve this silent treatment. He went into the kitchen and got out frozen chips and nuggets. He placed them into the oven and set a timer. He tried to be as slow as possible, but all too soon he was back in the living room. He dared himself to sit next to Harry on the couch. Harry immediately moved over.

"Do you want to watch cartoons?" Benjamin asked. He picked up the remote, turning it over to a kid's channel. No emotion from Harry. Benjamin clicked the TV off.

There was a wall around Harry. He wasn't sure how to break it down. "I'm sorry," he attempted. "I'm sorry for leaving you without saying anything." He licked his lips. "I was nervous."

Seconds ticked by, still nothing. He didn't know why he had expected a measly sorry to work.

"You're lying!" Harry yelled. He turned toward him, glaring. "You're a liar."

Benjamin blinked. "I'm not lying, Harry, I was nervous."

"No, you weren't. You are a liar! You were afraid of me and you ran away because you're a stupid scaredy cat!" Harry said, viciously.

"I wasn't afraid of yo—"

"Don't lie to me!" Harry's face flushed red, and he balled his little fists up, "you have the same look as Uncle Vernon and Dudley when I make things float or things go boom. You're scared of me, so you ran away."

Harry's eyes searched his, daring for him to make another false claim. "Alright," he said. "You caught me. I was afraid. But I'm not any more and I'm really, really sorry for running."

Harry turned his head away, crossing his arms again. "You don't have to apollo-gyse; I don't need you. I have other friends. They're not afraid."

"But I do have to apologize, Harry. I don't want to lose you. I'd like to make it up to you."

"You can't," Harry said stubbornly.

"Are you positive?" Benjamin asked, creeping closer.

"Absolutely positively sure."

"I suppose I can't change your mind," Harry nodded, "but the tickle monster can."

"Tickle Monst-AHAHAHA!" Benjamin took his chance. His fingers crawled up and down Harry's sides, reveling the squeals of delight and the way Harry wiggled while Benjamin attacked. "Stoooop! Ben-ha-ja- stoppp!" As most kids do, Harry tried to push Benjamin's hands away. "I'm ser-aah!"

"I'm not going quit until you let me apologize."

Harry shook his head defiantly.

Benjamin laughed. "Are you sure? I can keep this up for ages, Harry."

"N-Hahaha!" Harry kicked and laughed, trying to catch air with every laugh.

He accepted Harry's challenge. His fingers seeking out Harry's most sensitive spots. He loved this euphoric feeling, being the cause of Harry's joy. He missed this.

"Okay!" Harry yelped. "I give u-ahh! Stooop!"

Benjamin smirked victoriously. He fingers receded. "Munchkin," he held out a hand. Harry came down from his high, staring at him wide eyes. He glanced between Benjamin and his hand for a few tense seconds before he taking it.

As always, Benjamin was mindful of his strength as he pulled Harry up. He reluctantly let go of Harry's small hand. He'd forgotten how warm and fragile he was. "I'm still mad at you," Harry said, after a beat. Benjamin's smirk dimmed.

"But I suppose I could forgive you if you follow these rules," Harry said.

"Anything."

"Okay. One," Harry flicked up his index finger. "No more lying. Two," His next finger came up, "You have to buy me all the sweets I want, even if Aunt 'Tunia says I can't have any." Benjamin chuckled but nodded. "Three, you have to come to all my games and practices unless there is some super big, humongous emergency. Four, if you're away you have to call me every day. Five, you can't ever, ever leave me or get another best friend!" Benjamin nodded to each request. "And lastly." It was Harry's turn to grin. "You have to be my servant until I say."

"Really?"

"Really, really, if you want me to forgive you," Harry said, smirking.

"Hold up, munchkin. I never said I wouldn't do all these things. I will do all those things, except buying you sweets whenever you want. It will ruin your teeth, so I'll buy you sweets within reason."

Harry nodded. He held up his right pinky finger. "Pinky promise," he said solemnly.

Benjamin hooked Harry's pinky with his left. "Pinky promise."


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy New Year~! ALL THE BEST WISHES. YA'LL ARE THE BEST! So, for some reason chapter six is experiencing technical difficulties; I was unable to view it on mobile and on desktop, yet able to see it in the preview and one of my viewers say it won't anyone to review? I'm going to try to repost a SECOND TIME.**

**Beta-read: **_**THE WISTFUL BLOOM!**_

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Lily felt as if she had woken from a deep sleep. She tried to shake off the heavy weight on her eyelids and shoulders, forcing through the grogginess and the urge to go back under. It was then she opened her eyes and swallowed— tried to swallow. Her throat was very dry. She smacked her lips a couple of times, slowly growing acclimated to her wakefulness and _it _came_. _

The high, cold laughter and dark hooded figure wanting to kill her baby, her Harry, and her impassioned pleas to take her instead. And of course, he didn't listen, asking her to move aside. He waved his wand and hissed out the killing curse just as she reached out to grab ahold of her son—

_"_Harry_," _she garbled, and hot tears spring forth! Her baby boy! What happened to him? She had to find him, make sure he was safe—

"Harry?" a voice echoed. Lily's thoughts came to a grinding stop. She looked to the direction of the voice. It was a man, standing it front of her, in his early twenties with fine copper skin and dark shiny hair. He was handsome. It was odd, how she was looking down at the man, she had never been exceptionally tall. His ruby red eyes were setting off alarm bells.

"You're a... vampire."

The man grinned up at her, front canines lengthened. White and pointy. "And you are a portrait," he replied.

Lily blinked at him. A portrait? She glanced to the left and the right. A small round table sat on the left, with a quill, ink, her wand, and a steaming pot of liquid gold. Her favorite books were stacked to the ceiling. Her eyes rolled up. There was no ceiling, just dark blacks and greys fading into a golden edge. Her right side wasn't much better, it looked like the beginning of the Gryffindor common room, with the fire crackling in the background and that old, red sofa. She didn't remember when she had gotten her portrait painted but she assumed it was some time before they has gone into hiding.

"Do you know Harry?" she asked. For a moment, she prayed that this vampire hadn't known her son. Vampires fed on humans, and children were easy targets.

"Yes," he replied, with a wide grin.

He was goading her! Oh, if only she had her wand. She'd already imagined him to be another one of the Dark Lord's many sycophants. She and Harry had probably been given to him as some sort of sick prize— "Would you like to meet him?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Would you like to meet him?" Benjamin repeated, crossing his arms. "You have his eyes, and his nose, and lips... his mother?"

"I– yes," Lily said. She could feel elation bubbling within her. Harry was alive. He had survived the Dark Lord… how long had it been? "What's happened? I've been... I've been asleep for so long... How did you get my portrait?"

"Petunia Dursley," the vampire said, shrugging. He sat on a bed covered with a dark brown comforter. Lily idly noted that she in a bedroom. She guessed the guest room, by the way the room was set it up- not a single item spoke of a personal touch. She recognized her school trunk pushed off in a corner.

"My sister," she said, eyebrows raised, "Petunia Ev— Dursley?"

It was the vampire's turn to look surprised. "You look nothing alike!" the vampire exclaimed, "and you act nothing alike, you couldn't be related."

Lily smiled wryly. "She is my sister, but it doesn't explain why she had my portrait. Tuney doesn't like unnatural things, and neither does her husband. I should be somewhere else... like Gringotts. Or given to Remus, or Sirius, or Sev."

"I don't know much. She said your stuff was given to her after you died, including Harry."

Lily swallowed a hard lump. She had holes in her memories, yes, but she did remember the fight they'd had once they'd gone into hiding, argument about who would get Harry. James had immediately cited Sirius and Remus, but Lily had been adamant about her sister. For all the bad history between them, Lily felt confident that Petunia would take her of Harry like she would her own son. "Tuney treated Harry well, didn't she?"

"As of recently," the vampire stated, blithely. Lily didn't want to know what that meant.

"She and her husband abused him, before I came along," the vampire said, a quiet anger woven into his words. "I found him at four, in hanging castoffs and ruined trainers while their son walked around in new outfits. He worked in the gardens from sun up to sundown and rarely went into the house. I suspect he did more that weeding. He didn't eat, and was obviously psychically abused. There was also this cupboard, I don't know much about it… and I'd rather not. They did not refer to him by his name, and it wasn't until I intervened that they bothered to register him for school.

"He should have felt fear when I approached him. I was planning to make him my lunch. He smelled… so good. Like ambrosia." the vampire said with a wistful smile. Lily's stomach twisted. James was turning over in his grave. "I was going to drain him dry, and he should have seen that, all humans know when they've met a predator. But he didn't. He was so isolated, so needy, that he told me his name was Harry and asked if I wanted to be his friend." The vampire let out a tiny laugh. "I accepted."

"How is Harry now?" She was almost afraid of the answer. She tensed, preparing to hear the worst; he was stunted in growth, reclusive, the vampire's pet, a doormat, scared to be touched and loved…

"He's a laugh!" the vampire guffawed.

Lily had never felt so surprised. "What?" She gawped, for what felt like the millionth time, "he's okay?"

"More than okay," said the vampire, bouncing lightly on the bed, "he's brilliant. He's about seven and a half. He's a football fanatic, a big fan of Manchester United; munchkin thinks he's the second coming of Maradona. He's plays striker on his team, he's one of the best players. He practices every day."

Lily's smile bloomed. "He loves sweets," and so did she, "but he hates carrots or any sort of vegetable besides corn- sweet corn. He does well in school, he reads every night and tries to use big words," at this the vampire snorted, "he struggles with numbers, but you should see him when he does his homework— the concentration. He won't move until he gets it. And…"

Lily was only half listening, for at that moment she was more interested in this vampire. This vampire that spoke about her son with a twinkle in his eyes, and a smile that grew bigger and bigger with every piece of information he gave her. This vampire that knew so much about her son, she knew the vampire claimed that he and Harry were "friends", but in her experience vampires didn't make friends with humans.

"What is Harry to you?" Lily interrupted. She tucked red locks of hair behind her ears.

The vampire stopped. "Harry…"

/

She hadn't thought it possible. Here she was, dead and painted in acrylics, and sick to her stomach. She paced the length of her room, finding that the painting had a lot more to offer her. It was as big as the Gryffindor common room and crammed with many of her favorite books. There on her right, far from the view of an onlooker, was a door shrouded in shadows. She guessed it was a way to travel beyond her frame. She glanced away.

Time moved by so slowly. Benjamin had left her more than ten minutes ago to pick up her baby boy. How long did that take? Ooh, never mind that. Time moved by so quickly. She'd had all night to prepare for her son's arrival, and now with it being so close, she wasn't ready. She fretted with her hair.

Would Harry even recognize her? She hadn't laid eyes on him since he was fifteen months old, on that terrifying night. She shivered. Would her Harry hate her for leaving him with her terrible sister? Alone, without a mother's touch and comfort? Did he miss her, as she had missed him?

She froze when she heard the clicking of the door. "Harry, come upstairs— shoes off, mister," she heard Benjamin and laughed at the sound of Harry's exasperated huff of "_Benjamin_!"

She guessed the soft, almost unheard steps of Benjamin were the first creeping up on the staircase, as they were followed by hurried, deep footfalls and excited laughs. "Benjamin, Benjamin! Why do I have to come upstairs?"

"So many questions!" Benjamin said, "you'll ruin the surprise."

"Surprise?" Harry gasped, "I knew it!"

Lily couldn't contain her smile at her son's excited tone. "Wrong way, munchkin," Benjamin said with a laugh. Lily hurried to stand front and center when the guest bedroom was opened. Harry just seconds away—

"I don't see anything!" Harry exclaimed. He darted in. His head whipped back and forth so fast that Lily had the ridiculous thought that it would pop off. Benjamin sat on the bed directly in front of Lily, and sent her a wink. He patted a spot beside himself. Harry scrabbled to sit beside him. "Benjamin, tell me the surprise!"

Benjamin said not a word, only pointing to her portrait. Lily's breath caught in that moment. She greedily drank in his appearance. He was so big (she choked back tears. Only yesterday he fit perfectly in her arms), so beautiful, so... like James. The scruffy, black hair- wild and untamed- the pale skin and those huge glasses, and that permanent expression- like he was ready to cause trouble. She was thrown back to the first time she saw James— but his eyes were hers. She thought they were beautiful.

"She's beautiful!" Harry said brightly. He turned to Benjamin, "who is she?"

"I'm your mother," Lily said. She didn't even think to stop, to ease her son into seeing her like this. She pressed her hand to the surface of the portrait, wishing more than anything she was corporeal— alive. She didn't miss Harry's small flinch, nor the way he recovered- staring at her with complete trust.

"You're my Mum?" Harry asked, he leaning forward curiously.

"Yes, baby."

Harry squinted at her. He was thinking hard enough for her to see smoke rising from his ears; another trait he shared with James. He tilted his head. "Why are you in a picture? How'd you get in there? Can you come out?"

"Mummy can't come out the picture. She had a bit of an... accident. And this is what keeps Mummy alive." Lily said, praying that her voice would remain steady, "do you understand that, Harry?"

"Yes!" Harry nodded, excitedly, "where's Daddy?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell Harry. Then, he'd ask how he died, and then she have to tell him everything. He wasn't ready for that…

"Harry," Benjamin interjected, "you ask way too many questions." His red-black eyes switched between Harry and Lily. "Don't you want to tell your Mum all about your day, and your favorite things? She hasn't seen you in awhile. I'm sure she would love to get caught up."

"Yes, Benjamin is right," Lily agreed. She mouthed a "thank you," to the vampire who winked at her again.

"Mum," Harry began, "Charlie, uh- that's my friend…"

Lily found herself eagerly pressed against the portrait, giggling at all his misadventures and aww'ing at his spectacular moments- especially about football. She loved that spark in his eyes— ahh! He was just the same as James, every time he launched into Quidditch this, Quidditch that... there he was, in their precious baby boy. She pressed him for more, wanting him to know every inch and cranny of his life.

She snuck a glance at Benjamin, who appeared just as enthralled by Harry's words as she was. She would have to watch him.

/

"Do you always keep him for the night?" Lily asked. She nodded toward her son, snoring softly, tucked into the guest room bed.

"No. The giraffe and whale had some black-tie affair, and the piggy son is over at so-so's... so I have Harry for the night."

Lily nodded. "He has magic." The many, many instances of accidental magic had not escaped her notice throughout their lengthy conversation.

Benjamin's shoulders drooped. "I know."

She wondered if Benjamin himself was a magical type of vampire, someone she could speak to about the wizarding world without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. "All magical children have this… boost at the ages of three, and seven. He might have one at eleven, and seventeen- when he reaches his magical inheritance. That should be all, but you can never really be sure."

She glanced at her son, peacefully asleep. "They last for about a year, and after that he should adjust. Right now, his magic is mostly attuned to his emotions."

"You know a lot," Benjamin said.

"I should." Lily grinned, "I am his mother, after all." She liked saying that. She had another chance to be Harry's mother, to play a role in his life.

Benjamin propped a hand under his chin. "How did you end up in the portrait?"

Lily gave him a sad look. "I died."

"And how did you die?"

"I will tell you when Harry turns eleven," she said. Benjamin raised an eyebrow.

"I'm feeling tired," she faked a yawn. Benjamin raised his other eyebrow. She knew he didn't believe her, but he let it go. He stretched as he got up.

"Yeah, me too."

"Vampires sleep?"

"No," he smiled, "but it's fun to pretend." he sent her a sharp grin. He went to flick the lamp off.

"Benjamin?" She called, once they were cloaked in darkness.

"Yes?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She knew what she wanted to say, yet she didn't want to say it, not to this vampire.

"Lily?"

"Oh, sorry," she laughed, softly, "It's nothing. Good night."

"Yeah," Benjamin said. She could tell that he was smiling. "You too."


	7. Chapter 7

**I won't bore you people with excuses. All I have to say is that senior year is hard, boys are annoying brats (as are crushes on them), and college picking is hard. I'm sorry for leaving and I'm two thousands words into the next chapter. Obligatory sick chapter, this one. **

**thanks to all that review, read, and alert. I appreciate it. This chapter is unbeta'd, proceed with caution.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

The last day of the school year was here. Benjamin jogged out of his house and joined the giraffe, piglet, and Harry on the morning route. A few dynamics among them changed since he apologized. Harry nearly became one with his shadow when Benjamin converged, he suspected the munchkin didn't fully trust him to not disappear.

He went along with Harry's pulls to join the other adults and their children and tried to put on a kind smile as he was forced to endure equally fake smiles and plastic comments of:

"Benjamin, it's so nice to see you. What is this a record? Haha–ha!

"We were beginning to think you some sort of misanthrope. Haha-ha! I was taking the piss.

" Oh Ben —do you mind if I call you Ben?— isn't it just the darnest thing? You appear here out of nowhere four years ago and we've seen you with no one aside from the Dursley's strange boy,whatshisname—Harper…Harper Porter? Careful, people are starting to talk. You better bring a home a lady or we might think you're one of _those_ types! Haha-haa!"

It would only take one well-placed cut from him to rip out their larynxes, and then, he would be the one laughing. Ahahaha.

"Benjamin?"

He blinked, his stare turned downward to meet Harry's solemn one. "I'm leaving now," Harry said. "You'll be here after school. Right?"

"At this very spot, munchkin."

"You promise?"

"Swear it," Benjamin held out his pinky. Harry wrapped it around his tight. His face said it all: You better keep it, or else. "I promise." Benjamin's pinky strengthened around Harry's the littlest bit.

Harry went to Petunia, he received a stiff pat on the head and a distant murmur of have a good day. Stiff and distracted, Harry lingered at the gates with his friends until the school bell rang.

Benjamin waited until Harry was out of sight before he hurried to catch to the giraffe's stride.

"Petunia! Wait!"

She waited. She held his stare with a cool blue eyes, perhaps, her one similarity to Lily.

"I wanted to thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"For, you know, helping me fix my relationship with Harry."

"Took you long enough," the giraffe sniffed. "Although misplaced, it wasn't for you or my nephew. It was just a means to make an end."

Benjamin shrugged. If you she said so. He knew the truth, and he was thankful. He wondered if Lily would like to talk to her.

/

"Would you like to talk to your sister?" Benjamin asked as soon as he was back home. He stood in front of Lily's portrait.

"No," Lily said. Her face held no outward reaction.

"Are you sure? She mi—"

"My sister– the person I thought to entrust with my most precious treasure—abused my son. Petunia Dursley does not get to atone for her mistakes through me," Lily said, voice thin and cold as ice.

"Fine."

/

The munchkin turned eight today. Benjamin couldn't decide one who was more excited, Harry or Lily. Harry talked to the giraffe a month prior asking that he not have a birthday party. Instead, Harry wanted to spend the day with him and Lily. The giraffe was fine with it; Benjamin suspected it had something to do with him shouldering the expenses, and zero chances of a freak incident happening like last year.

He opened the door just as the giraffe was reaching to press the doorbell.

"Munchkin, how are youuuuu—you're, um, looking different today." Nice save, he silently congratulated. Tactful.

"Explain," Benjamin said. He moved aside, beckoning Harry into the house, keeping an eye on him as he trudged inside resembling a mini-zombie. Sweaty, pale skin, Rudolph-red nose, labored breaths, and there were multiple patches of blisters located where skin was visible… he swore they were colored shades of green.

Petunia passed on a green backpack into his arms. "Dudders has chickenpox and _he_ has some mutated strain of it," said the giraffe. Typical of her, she narrowed her eyes and her lips thinned.

"So, why is he here? One of our stipulations was taking care of Harry as well as you do your son," Benjamin said. The giraffe's lips thinned further.

"It's his birthday, he wanted to spend the day with you, even sick. He wouldn't stop getting out of bed, he's turning green and he's spitting embers. _I am_ acting in his best interests."

The giraffe didn't bother giving a goodbye. She twisted around and began her walk back home. Benjamin shook his head, closing the door when the horse was on her doorstep. Why he allowed disrespect from her didn't know. She was always amusingly irritating to talk too.

He found Harry on the couch curled in a miserable-ball. He sat the backpack down next to Harry's kicked-off trainers. He brushed back strands of Harry's sweaty hair, dropping to his knees when tired green eyes blinked open. "Today… birthday," Harry rasped, smiling weakly.

"I know munchkin, you should've stayed in bed," he reprimanded gently. "You don't look so hot."

Harry shook his head, he leaned into Benjamin's fingers. "Don't care… want…you…and Mummy."

He clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Such a stubborn munchkin. "Alright," he said. He stood back up. He intended to carry him upstairs, of course, Harry swatted him away.

"No… me…not…baby." Harry glared up at him. He managed to pull himself into an upright position.

"Harry—" he didn't like the way his breath rattled in his chest and how pink his cheeks were as if he had run five miles nonstop. He moved to help; again, Harry swatted him away like he was annoying fly.

He slid unto trembling legs. "I can do it!" He shuffled past him toward the stairs. He went up, one step at a time. He clutched the white-railing beside him. Benjamin stayed two steps behind, ready to catch Harry if his death grip loosened.

Harry made it into the bedroom where Lily was located. He flopped onto to bed, laying there, sucking rapid breaths. It was a long moment before Harry moved to sit criss-cross applesauce. "I…told…you!" Harry grinned proudly. His attention shifted to Lily. "I…eight…today," he huffed, he held his head and squared his shoulders.

"I know baby, already so grown up," Lily cooed. Benjamin took the moment to sit next to Harry. "You have your father's luck, having dragon pox on your birthday."

"Dragon Pox?" Benjamin echoed. "Your sister said Harry caught some mutation of the chickenpox."

Lily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Dragon Pox is essentially that," she said, taking on a scholarly tone. Benjamin sensed she was used to doing this: teaching the ignorant. "A mutation of chickenpox originating from one dragon thousands of years ago. It's exclusively contagious to people like Harry and I, and it's worse than the chickenpox. He gets the symptoms of chickenpox, the flu, and it reacts with his magic — leaving him physically weak, his skin turning green, and—"

"ACHOO!" a stream of bright blue flame, hotter than hell, followed Harry's sneeze. Harry rubbed his nose and sagged against Benjamin.

Benjamin blinked.

"— fire. Occasionally, he will sneeze or cough flames," Lily said. "It lasts for about seven days, it'll take another day or so, for his skin to clear up."

"How…?"

"You can treat Dragon Pox as easily as chickenpox. Let Harry eat soft foods for a few days, soak in oatmeal baths and wear loose clothing —trim his nails; if he scratches, it will be much worse–." She frowned. "No aspirin under any circumstance— just let him rest."

Benjamin nodded. That sounded easy enough. "How about it, munchkin? Ready for an awesome slee— oh. Already started." Somewhere along the way, Harry had fallen asleep. He drew shaky puffs of air while asleep, accompanied with thin, black smoke rising from his nostrils and parted lips. The only good he saw was some of the tension that Harry carried, gone.

"I should move him." Benjamin started to slide away from Harry, Lily stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

Benjamin paused. "I'm moving Harry to the pillow."

"Why?"

"Well, my body isn't the best—"

"Stop, he's comfortable where he is. Just let him stay. Unless… are you uncomfortable with my son laying next to you like this?" she asked. She tucked another piece of hair behind her ear, pinning him with a knowing look.

What was she insinuating?

"No."

"Good. Stay like that."

Benjamin stayed.

He quickly learned Harry didn't handle being sick well. He could feel a headache stirring as he tried to explain once again that _no, Harry you have to stay in bed. I know it itches, but you're have to_ stop scratching _because the thick, foul pus and it will scar. I know it's your birthday and I know you want cake and ice cream, but I gave you green kool-aid and hotdogs, _you vomited, _you need to eat something easy. _

Harry crossed arms, a sullen expression firmly in place. "But Benjamin," his voice dry as the Sahara edged with insistent whine. "I won't throw up. I promise I feel fine."

Benjamin noted while Harry swore on the validity of his well being he sneezed blue fire no less than ten times while his words slurred and whirled. But he _promised_ he was alright.

"Harry," Benjamin sighed. He closed his eyes.

"Benjamin," Harry mimicked.

He shot a pleading glance over to Lily. She shook her head, smiling at him with her perfect white teeth. Traitor. He didn't know what to do. It would be much, much easier to appease Harry and give in to his demands. Benjamin was no doormat, an eight-year-old wasn't walking over him.

"Harry, you are sick," Benjamin said.

"I am no—!"

"Harry James Potter, you will listen to me," Benjamin interrupted, steel-like. "You have the option of eating chicken noodle or tomato soup. No ice-cream cake. No caramel candies. No playing. After eating, you will take an oatmeal bath and then get back into bed. If you're good I'll bring up your presents then you can choose to watch Star Wars or Terminator— only if you're good—"

"But!"

"No buts. I'm doing this for you."

"Tyrant." Harry pouted.

Benjamin smirked. "If you say. Chicken noodle or tomato soup?"

Harry slid further on the bed. Benjamin figured he wouldn't get an answer. He shrugged, heading back downstairs. Chicken noodle it was.

"Wait."

Benjamin looked over his shoulder. Harry was glaring at the wall. "Can I have Finz with tomato soup?"

"You got it."

Benjamin had the soup ready in record time. The orange goldfish bobbed on the red surface, smiling up at him, as he took the stairs two at time. Harry perked when he noticed him, the conversation with Lily cut short. He was careful to sit the soup on the small breakfast table he placed on Harry's bed earlier. Harry picked up the spoon. "Benjamin?"

"Mmhm?"

Harry smiled at him. The silver spoon rested on his lips. "Can we watch Star Wars after I eat?"

"Bath first, munchkin."

"Even if I eat super, duper fast?" Harry wheedled. His light eyes widened and his smile grew, making his cheeks look extra chubby. A lesser person would be swayed, he saw through Harry's act in a second.

"Yes, even if you eat your food super, duper fast."

There was no more protest. Harry slurped down his lunch, Benjamin drew his bath, sprinkling oatmeal as the faucet ran. He kept the water cold to lukewarm. Lily told him that warm weather and water would only irritate Harry's skin. The calamine lotion sat on the counter.

"Harry," he called. He dipped his fingers into the bath once more and swirled around. Perfect. Plop, the washcloth dropped in.

"Har— oh." Benjamin turned around to see Harry clutching his change clothes. He wobbled on the tile floor.

"Do I have tooo?"

"Yeeeess."

"I hate baths," Harry mumbled darkly. Benjamin was sure if he glared any harder at the bath would be charred mess of fiberglass and ash.

"I know, but it only takes five to ten minutes and then Star Wars."

"Five minutes?" Harry prodded.

"To ten minutes— wash your ears and around all your boy bits," Benjamin said sternly. He didn't even feel the slightest hint of embarrassment. His munchkin was the type to skive off.

"I will," Harry muttered, he looked at Benjamin before abruptly glancing down.

"I'm serious, wash everywhere. I will be back for lotion."

"But—!"

"The more you protest, this less time there will be for opening gifts and watching Star Wars. Wash." Benjamin didn't give Harry time to whine. He swept out of the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

Benjamin blew out as soon as he was back in the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed. He waited a moment or two, his head tilted toward the bathroom on the left. Silent until he heard Harry's grumble and subsequent drop into the tub.

He shook his head at Lily. "Your son," he said.

"My son," Lily repeated. She propped a hand under a chin. "He's a bit stubborn."

"A bit!" A bit didn't even cover it. She had eyes just as he did right? Did she not see how he argued with him over everything! Harry refused to listen to him.

"Yeah, just a bit," Lily said airily. "How are you holding up?"

"…fine," Benjamin said. He combed through his hair. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?"

"It lasts a week," Lily reminded.

"A week. Right." Benjamin stood up. He absently brushed his pants and fixed his shirt. "I better get the VCR up and running before he finishes washing. Any objections to the first Star Wars?"

"The first?" Lily asked, her brow furrowed. "They made another?"

"Yeah, in '80 and '83, weren't…" Benjamin recoiled. "Sorry, my mouth runs away with me. They cost me an arm and a leg, but I have all three on video cassette. Harry's only seen part of it on TV, and movies start to blur together when you've lived as long as me so it'll be a new experience.

"I'll just go." Benjamin hurried downstairs to unhook the silver VCR from the plug. He was mindful of all the black cords and how they all mixed together. He swore with every year that passed humans kept coming up more and more extravagant means of technology. A VCR with all these damn cords; what next?

"I'm done!"

"Alright, hold on," Benjamin shouted. He was back in Harry's bedroom in seconds. He was grateful for his supernatural speed, he had the movie up and running under a minute while Harry was still drying off.

"Lotion time," Harry sang, gleeful.

Benjamin poked his head into bathroom to see Harry standing in front of the mirror. Blue and white R2D2 undies on.

He inched further into the bathroom. He scanned over Harry. His bottom half was a dark evergreen while his upper half vibrant and light as new spring grass. The blisters on his skin looked less like erupting volcanoes of molten pus and more like rough, black-green scales rigid and tough, similar to the Nile crocodile. He wasn't quite sure calamine lotion would deal with this, but what else did he have?

"You smell clean," Benjamin said, somewhat surprised. He half-expected Harry to sit in the water for ten minutes. He grabbed the pink lotion from the counter.

"I cleaned three times every where," Harry said indignantly. "And why do you have the lotion? I can do it!" he lifted onto his tippy toes and tried to grab the bottle from Benjamin. He dangled the lotion up in the air. "Give it her—choo!"

"Bless you." Benjamin watched Harry rub at his nose, still an irritated red color. "I know you can do it. However, I'm more efficient."

"Efficient? What's that mean?"

"It's means I can get it done faster, better, and without wasting any extraneous effort."

"Extraneous?" Harry asked. He was even more confused.

"I know what I'm buying you for Christmas," Benjamin teased, smiling down at his munchkin. "Just close your eyes and I'll be done before you can say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

Harry huffed. "I bet you can't."

"What do you want to bet?" Benjamin asked. He flicked the brown cap open.

"If you can't put lotion on me _efficiently_— I get to eat cake and play all I want."

Benjamin tutted. He didn't know why he was surprised; of course, Harry would want to break the rules he had set in place. "Fine munchkin, if I win, no more complaining. You'll do as you're told until you're healthy again."

"Deal!" Harry agreed. He closed his eyes.

"Ready?" Benjamin squirted a huge amount of the thick, pink lotion on his hands.

Harry nodded. He leaned forward and took a big breath. Harry would be in for it. His fingers were already poised. "Supercalifragilisticexpialido—

"Done," Benjamin said, oozing nonchalance. Harry looked at his mirror image, stunned.

"You cheated!" Harry rubbed at his skin.

"Me?" Benjamin pointed at himself in mock surprise. "No? I would never." He laughed at Harry's stink eye. "Believe me."

"How did you do it? You can't—I didn't even feel— not possible." Harry babbled on.

"I'll tell you the secret of my magic fingers when you get older, promise. For now, I won and you have to put on your clothes. We have a movie to catch."

Harry joined Benjamin in the bedroom minutes later dressed in a loose white shirt and blue shorts. He crawled into the bed, keeping considerable distance from him. Harry became extra-prickly when sick, jotted down and underlined in black sharpie.

"Can you see Lily?" He moved Lily to hang on the wall opposite of the TV.

"Perfectly, thank you."

"Ready to see the movie, munchkin?"

No response.

"Alrighty." Benjamin hit play. The TV screen went blank and the bright yellow letters started to scroll. In a galaxy far, far away…

Benjamin didn't understand how Harry was so comfortable using him like some feathered pillow (he knew his body was hard as stone and colder than an icebox). Harry fell asleep, burrowed at his side, just as Luke meet Obi-Wan for the first time. Benjamin combed his fingers through his Harry's absently. His attention split between the screen and Harry—or more, accurately the outside world.

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

"How did Harry get his scar?"

"Scar?" Lily's voice rose, strained. "Harry's doesn't have any scars!"

Benjamin paused the movie. He was careful to maneuver Harry onto his lap and where Lily could see him. He pushed back his hair to reveal the small, jagged, lightning-shaped scar. As long as Benjamin knew Harry the scar looked to be in the early processes of healing, brown-outlined with subtle pink and scabbed over. He once asked the giraffe about it, but she sniffed that Harry carried the scar since he was pushed onto them.

"He has a scar. Did she—?"

"No. The giraffe said he had the scar when Harry was placed in her care."

Lily shook her head. Her red curls flew. "Harry did not have a single scar — unless— he," she reeled back. The books and cauldrons quaked behind her. "He did this. He scarred Harry—!"

"He, who is he?" Benjamin said, verging on a vicious snarl. The bastard was going to pay.

"The Dark Lord," Lily said, quiet and smooth. "He's not… he doesn't mean… he tried to kill Harry, I hope Dumbledore ended him."

Benjamin almost felt like reaching into his ears and checking to see if he had globs of earwax wedged in. "He tried to kill Harry, why? He would of been just a baby when you died. How do you hope this Dumbledore ended him? There is a possibility that he's, The Dark Lord, is on the loose? Does the giraffe know? Why did he try to kill Harry?"

"I can't tell you much."

"Bullshit!" Lily flinched at the ferocity in his voice. Benjamin struggled to keep his voice and subsequent anger down. "Harry's my responsibility now, you can't just keep important information from me."

Her lips dug down. "I would never put Harry's safety in jeopardy, I swear it on my life," her words laced with protective anger to match his own. "The Dark Lord Voldemort tried to kill Harry and another boy over some banal prophecy. I don't know much more than that. If he hasn't ventured into the muggle world at this point I'm almost a sure he's either biding his time somewhere hiding from Dumbledore or dead. I'm leaning toward dead."

"And this Dumbledore? Who is he?"

Lily smiled. "The one person the Dark Lord is afraid of and that's all you need to know."

Benjamin disagreed. He hit the play button on the movie. He rolled Harry onto a pillow next to him. This so-called Dark Lord would have another person to be afraid if he even thought to harm a follicle on Harry.

The next two days were hell.

Harry couldn't stand to keep anything down for more than a twenty minutes. His skin, green, was tough as leather. His blisters-cum-ridges pointed like mini triangles. Pointed. Sharp. Boiling hot to touch. He could barely speak. He didn't speak or make a noise aside from the ever, present sapphire flames and sinister, black smoke.

The room was like a baking oven, growing hotter and hotter with every rise in temperature Harry had. The stench of soot and burnt cotton hung heavy around him. Benjamin refused to leave only to place a cool washcloth on Harry's head or to coax him to drink a couple of mouthfuls of ice-water.

He fell into cycles of fistful sleep no longer than half-an-hour at most. He was barely lucid awake. Lily kept with insistent whispers of it'll break, it'll break, it'll break

Benjamin half a mind not to believe her. Harry was so smallfrailbreakable. How in the world could he pull from this when every breath he breathed –real air— stole life out of him. Sickness frightened Benjamin because as a vampire he forgot about death and how soft It crept.

On the third day the blisters receded. His core temperature cooled. There was less smoke. His flames dying to an orange-red.

On the fourth day, Harry sat up as he had done a million times before. Pink suffused with Harry's natural tan, he was covered in a thin layer of wet. He smiled impishly at Benjamin.

"I had the strangest dream," Harry gossiped. "I was Dragon-Harry and I breathed fire and my cave— my nest— was as hot as lava and you and Mummy were like my captives."

Benjamin was almost sure Harry was pulling his leg. He went along with it. "Crazy dream, munchkin. Were you scared?"

"Nu uh," Harry stuck out his tongue. "I am never scared."

"Sure Sure." He couldn't help his grin at Harry's squawk: he was the bravest, braver than any lion or dragon. "Do you want eat to first or take a shower?"

"I already bathed!"

"Yeah, awhile ago. Go take a shower, then, we can go outside and play footie and eat your birthday cake filled with ice cream. But I understand if you wanna stay in your sweaty, nasty clothes without any delicious, chocolate and mint ice-cream—

"ICE-CREAM CAKE!"

Harry jumped off the bed and zoomed into the bathroom, the door clicked to a shut behind him. Benjamin heard the rusty creaks of the knobs being turned, then, pouring of the showering head.

"He forgot clean clothes," Benjamin said aloud. Lily giggled behind him.

Harry was out within ten minutes smelling of synthetic floral soap. A large white towel wrapped around his body. He demanded Benjamin and Lily to close his eyes while he rummaged around for clothing. He complied to Harry's request with a snicker. For such a confident person, he was sure was modest. Both hands were clapped over his eyes as if he were playing a peekaboo.

"You can look now," Harry said brightly. He stood in front of Benjamin. The towel thrown behind him unto the bed.

Benjamin wolf-whistled. "Lookin' good, munchkin. Feel good? No more Dragon-Harry?"

"No more Dragon-Harry," Harry said. "…for now." He bounced on his heels. "Can I have cake now?"

"One track mind you have!" Harry pleaded with his eyes: cake, pretty please? "Oh fine." Benjamin couldn't deny him any longer. "Cake, presents, and whatever you want."

"_Whatever_ I want?"

Benjamin clicked his tongue. "Within reason, yes."

Harry whooped, running passed him, eagerly racing down the stairs. Benjamin glanced at Lily. "He bounces back quick."

"He gets it from me," she said with a wink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rosalie is the undisputed gamer queen. Benjamin is the next avatar. Shit happens in this chapter. Harry is still eight. Also, did you know Rami (benjamin) and Jackson (Jasper) played boyfriends on a show? **

**Thank you to all my reviewers, favoriters, and alerters. **

**last day of spring break so I figured I should give you all another chapter before I disappear again. This is unbeta'd, proceed with caution. Review pretty please.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

There's something especially exhilarating about being the apex predator, the highest on the food chain, no one could take your crown. No one would dare.

Well.

His lips curled.

They could try.

Piercing howls cut through the night like a sharpened knife. Benjamin took to the chase. He blurred, passing, the forest faster and faster until his legs burned, his chest ached. He was exhausted. He was _elated_.

The harsh panting and thunderous footfalls padded on the forest floor, matching him pace for pace. He wondered if he noticed how hushed the forest was with them running around like rambunctious children. How not even the cicadas sung their nightly song.

There! He dropped to the ground just as the great beasts collided with one another in clash of ferocious snarls and growls. He bent down like an aged begger taking cautious steps back. His hands stretched in a placating manner, his red-black eyes trained in front of him.

They fought like Titans against one another. Giant fur paws fit with extended thin steel razors whizzed, slashing hardened muscle and tissue. Fractured bones. Teeth bit centimeters from the jugular. These beasts would tear themselves apart. He only had to wait. Then, he could go back to his hunt, his delicious prey.

As if they heard his thoughts they stood frozen. Their hackles raised, their fur bristled and grey, cast white under the belly of the full moon. Sickly yellow spotted him. Their ghastly maws wide and open—_Oh, what big teeth you have—_their breath reeked of rotting meat and rusted iron.

For a harsh eternity they studied each other. He didn't have it in him to resist. He beckoned to the largest one, whistling. "Come here, boy."

It roared! So loud it was, he was sure the humans would speculate if Godzilla had arisen. Then, it ducked its large head, its ears flattened against its head and it charged at him like a quasi-bull. He was milliseconds from being mauled.

He rolled as the second wolf pounced. The first wolf skidding ahead.

_Swoosh. Thwack_. A sickening crunch. _Oomph_. Benjamin was thrown back by the second's powerful tail. His midsection raw and pulsing. He picked his head up only for the first one—the biggest— to jump on him. Its claws dug deep into his chest, pinning him down. The other wolf circled around, waiting guard… or maybe waiting for a piece of him…

He struggled. The wolf snapped at him.

He kicked his legs in a flurry, the ground quaked beneath him, but he was ever so careful not to cause fissures. He didn't want this to end so soon. The second wolf yapped down the forest floor, bouncing up and down, like an excited pup.

Ah, the first one was smart. It shimmied down to his leg. The bastard held his stare and its powerful jaws locked onto one of his legs; _yank_.

To his credit, Benjamin didn't cry out. Bloodlust curled over the acute pain. It was only fun until he was hurt, no more playing. The other wolf thought it was time to for dinner because he went forward to his arm— Benjamin opened his palm, pursued his lips, and blew— like a flametorch— orange and red leapt onto the second wolf, eating the flesh, the flames gobbled the wolf whole like a terrible monster; red and orange grew larger and larger as the wolf diminished smaller and smaller.

Benjamin continued to blow.

The shivers ran down his spine at the agonized yelps of the whelp. It was never a familiar sound, a thing dying.

_Sonofa_— the first wolf stole another leg. It held it long enough for Benjamin to see before it spat it out like a rancid chew toy. It leapt back to his chest, its claws cleaving down into his chest once more, reaching the dirt beneath them. The wolf blew him back with another roar, this one had the fine hairs on Benjamin raised.

"I don't want to play anymore."

He swept his hand as if slap the upstart. A wave of air came followed its sweep. It flew back with a surprise bark. As Benjamin had no legs, he grasped onto the tree behind him, dragging himself to stand against the rough trunk. He wanted to go back down to the ground. To slam his shaking first down, wrench a gorge into the land, and to let the dog fall into Earth's deepest pits.

Too merciful.

It tore forward. Yellow eyes bulged, angry red spidering into the pupil. Its huge mouth wrung into a savage snarl. It barked at him like a rabid dog. He had the faint thought the beast was cursing him. He waited, waited, waitwaitswaited until it was just so— again, he swept his arm, letting it arc, then it fell. And as his hand fell so did the wolf.

Coughing. Gasping. Choking.

Benjamin watched. This powerful beast was dying because of him. He reveled in how it crumbled to the ground, thrashing, as its paws scratched at his neck in a disturbingly human-like fashion. Its mouth open, pitiful wheezes escaped it. He was sure It was begging for life.

It transformed as it was choking, shriveling outside in. Its fur and muscle expelled in a wet, soupy mess. Was it like this for all of its kind? A human laid out, defenseless as a newborn babe, weakly scratching for air. It was so feeble and emaciated.

It deserved to die. In four short minutes, it did. Pale and sorry under the moon.

His red eyes slid to the smoldering embers a few feet away from him. He forgotten about the other puppy.

They were dead. That's all he cared for. He sagged to the ground. The leaves and bramble crunching underneath his weight. He needed his legs soon. He didn't have the forethought to bring a watch with him, thus, he was running on borrowed time. Daylight was near, he was exposed even in the thickest part of Dean, he'd be liable to the whole pretty pretty shiny shiny deal with his skin that came with exposure to the sun.

_Craaack_.

He tensed, a growl escaped.

"Come out."

He waited for a minute. A hard ball sat heavy in his throat. North. Two stepped from behind trees. East. Two more stepped out. West. Another two. And, he strained, there was another hiding in the shadows. They were pale and perfect as classical statues, all with varying degrees of warm gold in their eyes. He had _never_ seen that.

Benjamin breathed out. The ball hardened.

"Vampire."

/

Benjamin sipped on his makeshift caprisun. He sucked obnoxiously on his crazy-straw, sipping on his favorite type of blood (B negative). Seven pairs of golden eyes were glued on him. Benjamin wasn't a shy person, but a vampire's stare was unnerving. They never blinked. Their owners were seated on white couch covered in plastic while he got the pull-out chair.

Benjamin pulled from his straw, smacking his lips. "Thank you for the blood and letting me pull myself together." He wiggled his legs, the skin and muscle reconstituting. Hurt like a bitch, but hey, his legs were there.

They said nothing. Although the Mother gave him a glittering smile.

"So, you're the queer vampire that Amun talked about. The one with amber eyes. Carlisle?" Benjamin asked, eager to break the silence. He rested his caprisun on his thigh.

"Amun, my old friend," Carlisle said, palpable warmth found in his voice. "How is he? Last I visited I hadn't the pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"He's fine. When did you visit?"

"December 1780."

Benjamin snorted. "I was still swimming in my father's testes then."

Hulking Muscles threw his head back and cackled. "He's hilarious! I like him, pretty please, Carlisle, can we keep him?"

"We always have room if he wishes."

"Thanks. I have to decline. Amun is a bit possessive over me." A fact used to kindly deflect the offer. Carlisle was as weird as Amun said. He was entirely too hospitable for a vampire. Vampires didn't just accept others into their coven, especially vampires they knew absolutely nothing about, or had anything to offer.

"What were you doing in the forest?" Blonde Goddess asked. She sat in Hulking Muscles' lap.

"The same thing you were doing: hunting a tasty snack pack of clueless tourists."

"Clueless human tourists did that to your clothes and tore off your legs?"

"_Rosalie," _the Mother reprimanded_._

Blonde Goddess was unapologetic, gesturing for him to talk.

"I was hunting before I was attacked by wolves, but I dealt with them easily enough." he shrugged. He presumed they had noticed the body and smoldering embers that circled around him. "What were you doing?"

"Hunting."

"Believable," Benjamin said slowly. "If it weren't for the fact that the tourist area was five kilometers north. You were deep in the forest."

"Animals," the Mother clarified.

"Animals?"

"Yes, we find they sate our taste for blood almost as well as humans," Carlisle said, oddly proud.

Benjamin would have to disagree. He tried animal a couple of years into his vampirism, hunting Nile crocodiles up and down the cataracts until he came to the delta. When he bit into the beast, he tasted ash and mold, the blood consistency was all thick and congealed. His stomach twisted at the memory. He vowed to never do so again. Eww.

It must of showed on his face because the whole coven minus Constipated burst into laughter. "… I'm sorry, but I find it hard to believe that any vampire would try animal. Why?"

"We're still human, afflicted with this… condition, it doesn't mean we lose our morals," Constipated said defensively.

It was Benjamin's turn to laugh. He admired this one's strong conviction, however misconstrued it was. Ridiculous. "Afflicted with what condition exactly? You're dead. A reanimated corpse. You lost your humanity when your woke up thirsting for blood. Humanity doesn't apply to you anymore."

"We're not monsters!"

Monsters. Pfft. Benjamin sipped on his caprisun wisely keeping quiet. He studied each of the seven. This coven was made of naive children —aside from Carlisle— he guessed it would take a few more decades or another century for them to accept their true nature. He knew this lifestyle wouldn't last.

"This is a delicate subject, I don't want to wear out my welcome so soon. Let's move onto something else, yeah? I don't believe I introduced myself to you, my gracious hosts, I'm Benjamin."

"Benjamin, I'm Carlisle and this is my wife Esme," he drew Mother close.

"Edward Cullen. " Constipated.

"Rosalie Hale." Blond Goddess.

"Emmett Cullen." Hulking Muscles.

"Alice Cullen." Imp.

"Jasper Hale." Predator.

Benjamin took a moment to openly gawk at Jasper, besides his obvious attractiveness (he wouldn't mind a few rounds with him), the vampire was covered in silver scars: deep teeth marks, claw marks, all kinds jagged and long, some were clean and short as if done intentionally. Benjamin stirred at the sight of Jasper, torn between wanting to attack him and running away because this vampire was experienced, experience equaled danger. But…

It took him a belated second to realize both the family and Jasper were on edge because he was growling, quite loud.

Benjamin stopped, clearing his throat, he relaxed. "Forgive me, your Jasper startled me." He spied Jasper tensing up, ready to bolt. "In a good way!" he hurried to appease. "You're quite the accomplished vampire, it's good! Amun's mate, Kebi, has quite a few scars herself to match yours." he smiled.

"Thank you?" Jasper said. He had a deep voice, and an lilting accent he couldn't place. It suited the blond.

"We have mates in this family," Edward interrupted. He sounded like a lot like Harry when he was trying to hide his irritation. "Jasper and Alice, Rosalie and Emmett, and Carlisle and Esme. So, if you would if kindly rein yourself in."

"You're the lone wolf, then," Benjamin said. He didn't particularly care for if this coven in front of him were mated. Jasper (as well as any other person) could speak for themselves if they had a problem with his attention. He doubted that Jasper —he scrutinized him again— who held himself like a caged predator would have problems telling him off.

"It doesn't matter if he has the power too, it's disrespectful."

Benjamin rolled his eyes. "Alice— do you mind me 'drooling' after your mate?"

Alice giggled. She curled around Jasper's arm. Jasper looked down at her like she was all the good contained in the world. "I don't mind. Besides, Jazz doesn't even register as competitor when a munchkin is in the running!"

Well, Benjamin wouldn't exactly say that. He could be in the competition. Jasper was enough to turn heads with his appeal, he only had to offer. Benjamin smirked.

"Would you stop it!" Someone sounded like they were dangerously close to blowing their top.

"You're mighty testy, Edward. Did you not have enough to eat? My munchkin gets the same way when he hasn't had a snack," he said.

Edward scowled. His constipated look became more defined. What was wrong with this child?

"I'm not a child!"

"Edward." Carlisle reached out to touch him on his shoulder. Oddly enough, the touch alone drew out a minute remorseful glance before being replaced with the usual constipation. Interesting. And he confirmed it.

Benjamin gulped down more blood before he spoke again. "You have a gift, Edward," he said, slowly as to not agitate him further. "You are a telepath, it's very invasive reading someone's thoughts without permission."

"It's not like I can control it, and you aren't exactly quiet," Edward said, scowling more.

"I like you well-enough," Benjamin said. This was true. He didn't find any fault with Edward. He sensed the younger was going through some sort of rough patch, judging by the nature of how he sat close to Carlisle (as close as Esme), but farther away from the others. "But you have no room to talk about disrespectful. Learn to control your gift. There are others with offensive and defensive gifts, more battle prowess, or both, that won't take kindly to you reading their thoughts."

"Are you threatening me?" he was all ready for a fight too.

"No, it's a warning." He shrugged again. His straw hit the bottom just as Mother got up with a smile and a promise to get him another couple of caprisuns.

"What time is it?"

"5:45 am," Rosalie answered.

"Do you have a phone I could borrow?" he would have to call Harry around seven to wish him luck and reassure him, and to tell him this was one of those huge emergencies. _How to explain I lost my legs?_ He had a youth football tournament today and tomorrow, and was very excited to be going to Manchester to compete. He couldn't be there for his first starter game, but he would damn well make sure he'd be there for his second.

"It's in the kitchen," Rosalie said.

"How long until my legs are healed, doc?" Benjamin asked. He felt things unnamed sewing together, mending, and the pangs that came with surge of venom.

"Another two hours, give or take a few minutes, I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better window," Carlisle said. Benjamin waved him off. That was more than enough time. Harry's second match wasn't until noon.

"And last question," Benjamin said. "Can I borrow some clothes when I leave?"

"Sure! You're about Edward's height and size!" chirped Alice. "He has plenty of clothes that he doesn't appreciate."

"In a different color other than black?"

"Those are the ones he's never touched," Alice laughed. She hopped onto her heels. She patted down the ruffles of her pink skirt. "I'll go get them." Jasper trailed behind her.

"While Alice is picking clothes —that will take awhile—I just got Super Mario Bros, Mortal Kombat, Pac-Man, Q*bert. Think you can beat my high score?" Emmett challenged.

That wouldn't be a challenge. The munchkin dragged him to enough arcades for him to know his way around any game. "There's no shame in crying afterwards," Benjamin said, smirking.

Emmett's laughter boomed. "Ha! We shall see!"

Rosalie scoffed, muttering something about boys and their dick measuring contests. She slid off her Emmett's lap to the couch, her legs and arms crossed. "Winner plays me."

Emmett whistled. "Rose will eat you alive," he faux-whispered.

Somehow, when he saw the way Rosalie's lips —a devil red color— and he didn't doubt Emmett meant literally too.

It was a game full of suppressed shouts and shot nerves, Benjamin won by the skin of his teeth. Emmett demanded a re-do and Benjamin won again, this time by a crushing landslide. (It felt deliriously good to be on the winning side, especially when a certain eight-year-old gleefully won in every arcade game, ever). Emmett handed the controller to his mate. "Avenge me," Emmett said. He kissed her cheek. "Win back my honor."

Rosalie patted Emmett on the knee. Benjamin didn't know what to expect. He gleaned nothing from Rosalie. She held her controller demurely, golden eyes unperturbed, and form lax, not even a cocky smirk or raise of a manicured eyebrow. She was calm, scarily so. He guessed this to be a front. This would be an easy win. Maybe Rosalie would score a few lucky points.

He was wrong.

So very wrong.

It wasn't ten minutes later when Rosalie was entering her name into the blinking high score spot, still cool as cucumber. She asked did he want to play another game, another, and another. The Cullen's had a surprisingly large collection of games and systems for a rent cabin. They went through each one; he had to remove the stain upon his name. Rosalie whooped him in every one, not a single strand of her honey-blonde curls came out of place.

What was she?

He conceded to defeat when he was lost in Mortal Kombat, the third straight time in a row. The Cullen coven rejoined in the living room an hour or so later. They shared sympathetic glances. "Rosie is a beast," Emmett said. He accepted Rosalie back on his lap. Benjamin would pretend he didn't see the twin smirks on their faces.

The rest of the time passed with Alice and Edward playing while Jasper watched. Benjamin engaged in friendly conversation with the others (plus his call to Harry) until his legs were fully healed. True to Carlisle's words, the pain was gone two hours later. His legs were done healing.

He stood up, testing them with tottering steps. When that was checked off, he subtly bade his power to flow down to his legs. He was ecstatic to feel the familiar burn of his gift through his legs. He was fixed back up as if nothing had happened. Lucky him.

Alice handed him his new clothes, he changed, and he was ready to go. Esme gifted him with a new thermos full of warm blood and a wad of cash. Carlisle left him with sage words of advice to visit anytime, it was a pleasure to meet him, yada yada yada. Emmett slapped him on the back —knocking all air out of him— promising a rematch. Rosalie merely waved at him, Jasper gave him a silent nod, Edward followed his brother. A weird coven surely, but he thanked them nonetheless. He was grateful for their hospitality.

Lastly, it was Alice who caught him once-more just as he was ready to take off for good. She appeared to him as he entered the part of the forest where the dead wolves laid. She stood a few feet away.

"Benjamin." She rocked on her heels, her arms twisted around her back. He noticed something weird about her. Her bubbly personality was only her first layer, the thinnest part of her.

"Yes? Did I forget something?"

She shook her head, looking at him. He paused, _she was looking at him_. She unsettled him just as much as her Jasper; the action had him standing ramrod straight and ready to bolt. In the few short hours he had been at the Cullen's, he was hyper-aware of how Alice Cullen always stared through you, past you, _never_ at you. Even her mate wasn't immune to this. When Benjamin tried to pinpoint where Alice Cullen's golden stare fell, there was nothing. Always nothing.

"We helped you today." She smiled as bright as the sun. "You will help us." He found it odd how certain she was.

"When?"

"When your munchkin masters death and decides to rest," Alice said, singsong. "It's been seen a thousand and one times."

_Seen_? Benjamin didn't get to question her. She was gone.

Benjamin was left alone with the classic question: what just happened?


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello peoples! Guess who graduated on Thursday (6/5/15)? I'm done with high school, whoop! Ah, I abuse the ellipses in this chapter. This is a rundown of all Harry's ages just right up to Harry's eleven. I don't have Internet currently, so I might be away for awhile. All of this is done on my phone so I apologize for the excessive mistakes. I tried my best. Hopefully, it's readable.**

**oooh, don't be afraid to tell me about any incorrectness with my British slang. I'm American but I'm trying to incorporate more colloquial speech to make the dialogue more realistic. So, feel free to point and laugh at any awkward or outdated terms. **

**Your graduation gift could be reviews… maybe… I take alerts and fav's as well! ;)**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Alice Cullen's cryptic words were worrying, true. The level of importance placed on her riddle was low. Thus, months later, her warning was shoved into the dusty corners never to be brought up until the correct time arose. It left Benjamin to focus on important matters like the here and the now.

Speaking of which: "Munchkin," he sighed.

Harry sat on the edge of the tub, his feet kicking the air. His skin smeared with clumps of dirt, his hair twisted with blades of grass, a parody of a flower crown. His cargo shorts ripped with another gaping hole, and his glasses foggy with thick unmentionable grime, hanging on the tip of his peeling nose. It was the bright red, beady blood that slid a messy track on his knees and elbows, that held Benjamin's attention. He was already digging through the sink's cupboard to pull out the Elastoplast, antiseptic, and cotton swabs, all of which were running low.

"I want Batman on my elbows, and Robin on my knees," Harry said. He swung a leg onto Benjamin's lap as he sat on the toilet. Benjamin frowned. He sat the plasters on the bathroom counter. His first goal was cleaning on the wounds, however, superficial they were.

"Munchkin," he said, leaning over to inspect the jagged cut on Harry's left kneecap. "What happened?"

"I dunno." Benjamin glanced up at Harry, whom shrugged helplessly at him.

"Right, why would you notice when your skin tears and you are bleeding half to death," Benjamin muttered dryly.

He didn't know why he bothered to ask for a response every time this sort of event happened. (it happened quite often, mind you). He learned from the mothers at the football field that most boys were like this, all rough and tumble, ignorant to anything outside their game until they came home with 'sudden' scraps and bruises.

He worked over the cuts. Harry grimaced at the burn of the antiseptic. Good, maybe he'd remember the pain and take precautions. He doubted it, it was only a quarter past three on a cloudless Sunday and he was going outside for more adventures after lunch.

"All fixed." He patted Harry on the knee to signal he was done. "Please be more careful—" Harry gave him a quick, dazzling smile than he shot off, out the bathroom. "Thanks Benjamin," an echo behind him.

He didn't even get to finish his warning. Why he bothered to give Harry a warning was a mystery. His cautious words fell on deaf ears. Goodness, he and his munchkin would be in the same positions next week.

This is Harry's eight, he cajoled silently. It would pass as seven did.

Harry's eight was characterized by plasters in dyed in colors of the rainbows, ripped and torn, snug and tight. Harry's eight was spider thin cuts, picked scabs, skinned knees, odd twigs and leaves, angry scars, and purpling bruises that trailed up and down skin brown and tough from breathless crusades outside, and worn like badges of honor. Harry's eight was delighted laughter echoing through the days and an active imagination, and the necessity to playplayplay before bedtime.

Benjamin's lips twitched. He placed the plasters, cotton swabs, and antiseptic back under the sink reminding himself that he'd have to buy more later.

He clicked off the bathroom light, and he leaned against doorframe for the briefest of moments. This was Harry's eight.

…

He pretended to not notice the twinkle of curiosity lurking behind his munchkin's green eyes. How his stares, wide as teacups, were glazed by muted questions.

His munchkin sat across from him at the kitchen counter. He was eating a bowl of chocolate ice-cream covered in sprinkles and other candies. Benjamin was washing dishes.

"Benjamin," Harry said. He sat down his spoon. "I have a question."

"It must be pretty important if you didn't finish your icecream first," Benjamin teased. Nonetheless, he set the mug he'd been scrubbing in in the water. He leant forward to give Harry his fullest attention. "Shoot."

"Why are you so cold?" Harry asked.

"I hadn't noticed; I thought I was quite warm!" he countered with a laugh. Harry scowled.

"This isn't a joking matter, Benjamin," he said, nearly whining. "I learned last week in health class that people are normally hot like 37 degrees Celsius."

"Ah, with one or two degrees of difference," Benjamin said smoothly.

"But, you aren't one or two degrees different. You're colder than my ice-cream!" Harry pointed at his bowl, like it was an accessory to his crime of frigidity. "Are you hiding something from me, Benjamin? I'm not oblivious! My teacher said that people fall into comas if their bodies are below a certain temperature, their bodies start to shut down, and they die. I don't want you to die! We should go to the hospital right away, they can make you warm again!"

"Munchkin," Benjamin said calmly. "I promise you it isn't serious enough for a hospital visit; it's a slight chill as all."

"No! That's not all I noticed. I've been watching you, you know," Benjamin nodded. Since eight had ended, and nine started, Harry was much less ignorant and more aware. He blamed it on the new material learned in school and Lily, his mother, instilling his munchkin with wise words to seek out his own answers when he had questions.

"You don't like going outside when it's sunny. You avoid it, or when you do go outside you cover up so much, which is super weird because you know we only get few sunny days and everybody enjoys them, and it's usually hot outside! AndAnd, your eyes change colors too, like they're super black sometimes like the obsidian from the volcanoes I learned about last year, and when you go away on your _trips_." Harry spat "trips" venomously.

"… You come back with red eyes like blood, and you look a gazillion times better. Not that you don't always look nice," Harry added as an afterthought. "But you come back… different.

"And, you don't eat. At all. Which is completely _hippo-cractical_ of you, Benjamin, because you say, I must eat three times a day, more if I have footie practice, and you get whingey if I don't eat because you say I won't grow up big and strong. What's your excuse? If you don't eat, you won't continue to be big and strong, and then, you'll waste away because your body needs food. It's like its battery, and without battery, it'll die. You need to eat so you won't die!"

"Munchkin, I'm really not going to die," the again went unmentioned.

"And you don't sleep!" Harry said as if it was this was his most damning offense. He supposed it was in a sense; his munchkin was always touchy about enforced bedtime. "Ever! I have to sleep even if I don't want too and I tell you I'm not tired, but you never, ever sleep. Do you have nightmares or something? Charlie says her Mum sometimes takes pills to help her sleep, she has like _insuenimah_. So, I'm sure you can get some. Sleep is very important. If you don't sleep you'll be all crabby like Mrs. Figg when Nibbles was ran over. It's another important thing your body needs. And if you don't have it…"

"I'll die?" Benjamin said.

"_You'll die!_ You aren't taking very good care of your body and you should. If something's wrong you should go to the doctor because doctors help unless you have like bad health insurance," Harry said, nodding to himself. He crossed his arms, pinning Benjamin with his best 'I-care-about-you-but-I'm-disappointed–look' copied straight from mummy Lily and auntie giraffe. It was a great effort on his part not to laugh, his munchkin was too cute for words sometimes."Well… what do you have to say for yourself, Benjamin?"

"Munchkin, what I tell you can't leave this room," Benjamin said seriously. "You have to swear you won't tell anyone."

Harry nodded. "I swear." He crossed his heart for extra measure.

"I swear to you I'm not going to die nor am I sick with some silly disease, I'm healthy as a horse, but." He paused, adoring the way Harry held his breath and clutched the ends of his shirt as if preparing for the worst. "I am a vampire," he confessed.

"Benjamin!" his munchkin gasped. Harry's scowl was back, darker than ever. "That's not funny, I'm not an idiot. Vampires don't exist!"

"I'm not lying," Benjamin said simply. "It isn't my fault you won't believe me." He smirked at Harry's evil eye. He loved humans. They never took the truth for face-value. Sometimes, it was easier to cover up with the truth rather than a lie.

"Fine, if you want to be mean and stupid, and not tell me what's wrong with you, that's fine. I'll find out for myself… or I'll ask Mummy," Harry said. He scooped out a fat ball of ice-cream, angrily taking a bite. "I won't ever be worried for you ever again."

"I'm wounded, munchkin," Benjamin teased.

This was how Harry's nine went, bristled and frustrated. (Excluding the dark spot during the winter hols with the whale's walrus of a sister and her vicious mutts). Faulty guesses based off private observations and studies. Harry's nine was an inquisition, Harry seeking to find some unknown truth. Benjamin wasn't particularly cruel, he allowed the queries and occasionally had a little fun with pushing Harry toward certain theories. When it came down to specifics, he only ever had one reply, "I'm a vampire, munchkin."

Harry's nine lasted until the third week of Harry's ten.

Benjamin was in the bleachers. His eyes sliding to the giraffe with Harry glued to her side. Harry was flushed red and grinning at the greying man that stood before him: a scouter from some prestigious football academy sponsored by Man U.

"He has the potential," the man said; he talked more to his munchkin than he did the giraffe. "I've been watching him for quite some time with the proper training he could be great."

They talked a bit more. The scouter did some more reeling on his munchkin's part before the giraffe in her own polite way told the man to go away.

Harry was already running to him, tripping over his feet, no doubt eager to rehash what just happened.

Benjamin summoned up enthusiasm for his munchkin. He tried to ignore the senses that blared within, prompting the unsettling weight he carried. Harry was uncomfortably close to eleven. Eleven which read like bad omen.

He bared Harry's ten, his usual grin in place. He pushed eleven to crevices of his mind. What else was there to do?

He cheered Harry on from the sidelines. He helped him balance his studies and football; research the best secondary schools for pursuing his interests; deciding how far he wanted to chase his football dreams and the crushing reality of them. Harry's ten was a contrast between strained lipped smiles and stars in eyes as Harry picked his top three academies/schools. They were all outside of Surrey and all were boarding schools.

Distance was another item that Benjamin mitigated by elbowing the term into darkness until the right time.

He'd known his munchkin for six years now. It was speck in his long lifespan, but a growing speck, quickly becoming some of his most treasured years. Six years where his munchkin transformed before his eyes. It was such a startling change too. He had witnessed regimes fall and era's fade, but none had been so striking as his munchkin somehow shooting up in height. He was now passed his hipbone and reached somewhere on the planes of chest. His cheeks and fingers once rounded and adorably chubby seemed to slim down with every passing second. He walked straight, he didn't toddle or hide, as if unsure of his movements. He was gawky sure but he held himself different. His eyes, back, and shoulders resolutely straight. He laughed and snickered, no longer giggled. His words and sentences less stumble and mumble, more with sophistication.

And distance, back to distance, with his munchkin's new changes swept in his yearning for more independence. A week ago, he told both the giraffe and him he no longer needed a guide for school or for the park. He could walk himself. It was no big deal… and right there, stroke an aching chord. Six years was much too short for him to get to spend with his Harry.

A chunk of Benjamin wanted to catch Harry's childhood years, four through ten, in golden amber, eternal forever. Another chunk of Benjamim, larger than he expected, was curious about the latter years of Harry. This part thrummed with the knowledge of Harry eventually transcending into adulthood. His breath hitched at images flowing unbidden of further changes that would ensue. The last chunk of Benjamin was afraid of the inevitability of Harry's eleven.

Ten flowed past them through the weeks and months. Benjamin reveled in the high points of Harry's ten. It was hard not too. His munchkin was so excited about his upcoming school year, it was infectious.

Benjamin was sure he was the only adult in Harry's life that felt the same. It didn't escape him that Harry's ten had the giraffe searching the skies, morning and night as if they were trash bins; he did not miss the minute glances she threw at Harry, not quite malicious. They were more apprehensive and nervous like she was waiting for him to do something abnormal.

Lily was suspicious as well. Her artificial smiles popped up each time munchkin was in one of his moods where he had to emphasize the wickedness of the schools he applied and how he'd be ecstatic at the opportunity to attend. Even more odd, Lily's sudden interest in the post and her flippant nature in the Harry's school-business as whole, almost like she didn't care.

It irritated Benjamin, but he kept quiet, maybe they were showing their anxiety about Harry leaving in different ways. If that sounded like an excuse that was irrelevant.

In late March, early May, Harry was admitted into 2 out of the 3 he schools he'd applied too. He accepted the invitation to his top choice with a smile and a fist punching the air.

June 23rd, how coincidental the piggy's birthday was when Harry's ten became Harry's eleven. A month too early, Benjamin would think later.

Benjamin laid in bed (he liked the comfort of the mattress even if he couldn't sleep), rolled to the left to listen to the commotion in Number 4. The giraffe hurrying to wrap the final gifts up and her muttered curse at the sausages being too crispy.

He heard the way the piggy lumbered down the stairs, eagerly exclaiming: "It's my birthday! It's my birthday! It's birthday!" and the not-so-quiet assertions that if the giraffe and whale didn't get him so and so there would be hell to pay.

It was a few minutes later, Benjamin's smile threatened to split his face. His ears prickled at the incessant ringing of Harry's alarm and the shriek of surprise that would follow.

And then: _th–ump! _

His munchkin rolled out of bed and fumbled for his glasses, he always forgot he placed his glasses on his right nightstand, but he reached for the left, only to find nothing. Benjamin listened to his munchkin's colorful vocabulary as he searched under his bed and all the nooks and crannies near the left nightstand before a lightbulb flickered on. "Oh, I left them right there…"

His munchkin went downstairs to join the rest of the zoo animals at the feedlot. As Harry's ten dwindled his magic reawakened, so, Benjamin heard the familiar yells as Harry attempted to use his magic to help the giraffe place the proper dishes and food on the table.

There were no broken dishes. No cries of, "It's in my hair/all over me!" Today was a success. Benjamin could practically see Harry's satisfied grin like a cat with cream.

They ate.

The piggy complained about the lack of gifts this year. The giraffe promised a visit to the zoo.

The post arrived.

Harry was told to go get it. He did and came back, waving heavy envelopes thick with bills. His words were, "I got a letter. It's a weird one too…?"

Heartbeats in frantic staccato. It was one of those moments where for the briefest of seconds the world stopped, and there was only silence, somehow much too loud.

Until the whale spoke in serrated word; Benjamin was sure his double chins wobbled and his rounded face was either as red as a summer cherry or purple as a plum. "Boy. I. Will. Not. Have. That. Freakishness. In. My. Home."

"Freakish?" his Munchkin asked. "It's just a letter."

A deep, hissing inhale like a dragon before it blew roaring fire, "_**Boy**_."

"Go to Benjamin's," the giraffe intervened, smelling smoke. He was sure Harry was wearing his 'But' face, his shoulders squared and ready to protest. "Now."

There was a slamming of the door. Hard steps on asphalt. His munchkin was coming.

He sped down the steps. He was seconds too early, but he waited all the same, wondering what had the whale's blood pressure up so high on his precious piggy son's birthday.

The doorbell rang. Benjamin had the door open to see Harry, still in his striped pj pants and white t-shirt, on the doorsteps, justly confused. "Aunt Petunia," and angry, he only called the giraffe by her full name when he was feeling hurt. He went in without a hello. "just kicked me out after Uncle Vernon went mad with this letter!"

Benjamin closed the door. Harry kicked off his shoes. "They didn't even let me finish breakfast. We were having _Scotch_ _pancakes_, Benjamin; Aunt Petunia never makes Scotch pancakes!"

"Right—" he wanted to see the letter, but his munchkin was talking with his hands. The letter flitted in and out of his reach.

"Harry?" Lily called from upstairs.

Benjamin didn't have a chance, Harry was already moving. He followed him to Lily's bedroom, simmering about missed opportunities and delicious pancakes, and the general unfairness of the world.

Lily didn't have to ask what was wrong. Harry was already talking. "The nerve! I floated breakfast over all perfectly, without spilling a drop, and I go and get them the mail despite it being Dudley's turn, and they throw me out because I receive one blood— erm, blooming letter! Then, Uncle Vernon is gets all purple like he's going to explode telling me he will not have freakishness in his house!" Lily pressed forward in her portrait.

"Sweetie, have you actually looked at the letter?"

"Mum?"

"What does it say, Harry?"

His munchkin huffed exaggeratedly. "I'd thought you'd be more angry about your baby boy forcibly thrown out in his jim-jams without breakfast. But priorities, the letter is addressed to: Mister H. J. Potter, Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

"It's only a little smaller than Dudley's, and besides, _Big_ D needs all the room he can get."

"Harry!" came Lily's sharp reprimand.

"I'm sorry, Mum, but it's true." He busied himself with flipping to the back of the envelope. His brow furrowed at the seal as did Benjamin's. "I have never seen this before; it's a weird coat of arms, I think. A badger, a lion, an eagle, and snake intertwined around an H. What's the H stand for?"

"Open it," Lily said gently, an undercurrent of excitement Benjamin detected in her voice. It was all the coaxing Harry needed. He tore it open as if were a Christmas present.

The envelope fell away to reveal a thick parchment that had Benjamin taking rapid steps backward. He breathed in the same scent as the men from many years before, the smell that carried on Harry and Lily, and all her things: Magic.

His munchkin was deathly quiet. Benjamin had the eyes to read what Harry was reading, but he refused. If he didn't read it, he didn't see it, then maybe… maybe… he faltered.

"Dear Mr. Potter," Harry read, his voice steady as his body betrayed him. His munchkin's fingers tightened around the paper. His heart began to speed up. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft," he gulped. "And Wizardry… we await your owl no later than July 31st."

Harry's ten ran its course; Harry's eleven began.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hiiiiii~**

**short story time: Not having money for public university sucks. Learning that you won't be able to school weeks before you're due to leave sucks. Not being able to go to school of your dreams, or gaining some independence sucks. Not having wifi or basic necessities suck. Watching all your friends go away sucks. Scrambling to get all your ducks in order for community college SUCKS. **

**So, I've had a somewhat sucky three months since I graduated high school. I apologize for this chapter as its short as fuck and sorta skippy but I've written it like five times and trust me when I say this is the best version. **

**Chapter unbeta'd, proceed with caution.**

**thanks for all the reviews, favorites, alerts, and generally reading. I love you~. **

* * *

**Milky Way: Chapter Ten**

* * *

Plumes of spiraling grey smoke.

Wet eyes. Excited eyes. Dismayed eyes.

Quivering mouths. Cries of excitement. Sighs of the resigned.

Crowded but not. A paradox. Them two alone, waves of people left and right.

He was there. Small, drowning in black robes and a crooked tie. glasses big for his tiny face, hanging off his nose. and a long, thin wood —wand— sweaty, new gripped in his hand.

The final pitched toll; five minutes left.

A bushy-haired child rushing past him, "I'll save you a seat," and they're alone.

and what was this odd feeling in his chest where his heart didn't beat, likely shriveled and black, and what was this sharp pain behind his eyes where his tear ducts used to be, and what was this hair-raising sense like a dog that howled before a storm.

"Harry?" _munchkin._

He was flummoxed.

In the movies a desperate run started, some great epiphany, a big collide in the middle, and murmured coo's promising to stay, forever and ever.

This was not like the movies.

Harry jolted.

and he was there.

Harry didn't ask questions how he moved so fast, when did he get there, no no— he looked up at him, wet eyes and quivering mouth.

He grabbed Harry's loose tie colored in red, blue, green, and yellow. "Do you know how to tie a tie?"

Harry shook his head; no.

"I'm going to show you, although… I know you won't remember," he said, easily fixing the cloth into a smooth and snug knot. "When you come home, we'll practice. Sound good?"

"Yes," barely there, a breath.

"Are you excited?"

That's the question.

Harry scuffed his shoe against the cobblestones, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe. Quiet.

"I-I…?"

"Yes?" he held his stare, seeing everything that swam in the green depths.

"I don't want to go." head down, mumbled.

He reached out, pulling his munchkin's chin toward him, with a single finger. "They'll love you; you'll make tons of new friends; you'll love Hogwarts; you're taking your football so your skills won't get 'rusty;' you'll see exciting new things," there were a thousand one and platitudes he could provide.

"But—"

"I'll be the first thing you'll see when you come back for the holidays."

Harry held out of his pinky, he wrapped his around it, tight.

"I swear it. No more frowny faces, 'k. You'll get wrinkles."

With another signal from the train, Harry cracked a small smile. He reached up on his tippy-toes to press a quick, wet kiss to his cheek before he ran toward the train.

"Bye Benjamin!"

"… see you soon, munchkin."

He was on the train, standing there like the village idiot, waving as the train lurched. His eyes on Benjamin until he became nothing more than a speck. And then, he was nothing.

Harry was alone. That alone wasn't such a terrible thought. It was more of a sinking, realized feeling, like bad marks at the end of the quarter when reports were handed out to be signed. He was tempted to cry, but he forcibly pushed it down with a tremendous amount of effort. It wouldn't do for him to look like a total nancy before the term even started.

Still, a lump was lodged in his throat and the bottom of eyelashes were damp.

He went down the carpeted corridor, his eyes resolutely straight. He slipped in the spaces between chattering students and peeking into cars, left and right, before he found a familiar bushy head. He slid the door open, stepping into the box. "Room for one more?"

"Harry!"

Hermione closed her book, _Hogwarts: A History, "_I was afraid you'd miss the train, or you found someone else to sit with," she said, all very fast and with a tone that had him both bemused and feeling bad.

"I promised to sit with you, didn't I?" He closed the door and sat next to her. He raised an eyebrow at the pudgy boy that sat across from him, a green-brown toad in his shaking hands. "I had to say goodbye to Benjamin."

"Right, that was why I said all the long goodbyes last night. I didn't know how long the Hogwarts train would wait or even if students like us would be allowed to bring our 'muggle' parents —an exclusionary term, I think— with us or go through the barrier—"

Harry learned early on that Hermione liked to talk. A lot.

"Hermione, who is that?"

"Who is— oh!" Hermione smiled at him. "This is Neville Longbottom, a first year like us, and his pet, Trevor, I believe?" Neville gave Hermione a shaky nod. "And this is…" she trailed off, frowning at the boy directly across her, curled up eerily close to the door. Similar to Hermione, he had a book with him, much thicker than _Hogwarts: A History. _Unlike Hermione or Neville, he didn't seem all that interested in interactions, his only action was flipping pages._ "_I don't know. Most everybody was full and he didn't object."

"Theodore Nott," the boy said, his attention still on his book.

"Oh." Harry smiled. "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you all."

Theodore's black eyes raised to rest on him, curious.

"Harry, I forgot to tell you on the phone!" Hermione swept in, her hands wrung. "It's the most fascinating, or one of the most fascinating — like wizarding law on its inhabitants, there are so many creatures, citizens I should call them, in this world I've really had to suspend my disbelief, all the monsters under our beds proven true— I've read all about you, Harry."

"Really. All about me?"

"It's rude to interrupt, Harry," Hermione said. Harry also learned she had a streak for bossiness.

"Yes, all about you," she continued. "You're in everything, well not in everything, but _something_ is mentioned about you, even in passing, in the most important ones like _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Art_s and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._ And now that I've given it a little bit of thought, before you knocked me over in Flourish and Blotts—"

"I said sorry," Harry said under his breath.

"I was browsing the fiction section and saw whole series's dedicated to you and _that night_."

"What night?" Harry asked. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about people writing about him, as if they knew him. Fiction or not. Beyond the weirdness of it, he couldn't fathom why they would write about him. He was just Harry.

"Y-You're the B-Boy-Who-Lived," Neville said, surprised and shocked. He clutched Trevor tight.

What kind of title was that? It didn't belong to him. And it still didn't answer his question about what happened on a night somehow related to him.

"I'm not. You're mistaken, sorry."

"Harry, you have the scar. I saw it when your hat fell off."

Hat. Professor Burbage, the Muggle Professor, had insisted he wore it before he went out to Diagon Alley. It had been a traditional wizard's hat, extra black and pointy. It hid all his hair, and— he traced the raised zigzag on his forehead— his scar.

A lightning bolt, Benjamin called it.

"That means nothing, tons of people have scars—"

"But not a shape so unique as yours," Hermione said. "It's proven, that's Voldemort's symbol, the one mark he left before he died."

"Voldemort? It sounds ridiculous, like a cartoon villain's name."

Neville shook in his seat. Theodore's fingers tightened on his book.

"My G-Gran says You-Know-Who's name is c-cursed."

His next question should obviously be who was this You-Know-Who Voldemort fellow, and why was his name cursed or even what he did to inspire such fear, and how did he give him his scar. Why he gave him his scar? And were there any more vaguely, hyphenated names he should be aware of like: The-Place-That-Shouldn't-Be-Talked-About.

But he exercised a trait that Benjamin swore he didn't have: _tact._

Harry shrugged. "If you say so, I'm more interested in the Hogwarts Houses than this You-Know-Who bloke. What House do think you guys will be in?"

"I think Gryffindor is the best house," Hermione said. "Their main attributes are bravery and chivalry, it's a romantic idea."

"Um…right," Harry said. He didn't understand how the Gryffindor House could be romantic, but girls were weird. "I thought you'd choose Ravenclaw, they seem to be a very smart House filled with smart people just like you, Hermione."

He thought a compliment like that would have Hermione red, or at least proud at such statement, but she looked down at her hands, mumbling under her breath.

Harry moved on, he'd talk to her about it later. "What about you, Neville? What house would you like to be in?"

"H-Hufflepuff…?"

"Would like you to be in Hufflepuff, or do you think it's where you'll end up?"

"W-Where I'll e-end up," Neville said, his cheeks a blotchy red.

"It's a wonderful House, I'd be proud to be part of it," Harry said, honest. "Hard-working, fair, and loyal… Theodore—"

The door to the compartment slid open. A very pale and pointy boy about his age was there with two, large boys that flanked him. Harry immediately decided he didn't like him, there was something about this boy, he reminded him strongly of Dudley.

"Theo," the pointy boy said. He was familiar with Theodore? "I've been looking for you everywhere. Did you know Harry Potter was on this train?"

How the heck did he know he was on this train(Harry briefly played with the idea of checking his clothes for trackers)? He hoped that Theodore didn't tell this boy who he was.

Theodore hadn't lifted his head from his book. He flipped another page. "I don't care, there are much more interesting things than knowing where Potter is."

"Father says it's important to build connections early," Draco drawled. He sounded ridiculous. "Potter is an extremely important connection."

"The best of luck finding him," Theodore said. Harry needed to know how he made his voice sound so flat.

"Will you at least come back to my compartment?" Draco asked, edged with insistence. "_She's_ clinging again."

"I'm fine here."

As if noticing their presence for the first time, Draco raised a single blond eyebrow giving them all an assessing glance. By the looks of it, he wasn't impressed.

"Longbottom, I'm surprised to find you here. I'd thought all signs were pointed to you being a squib."

Neville cowered, stammering and turning red.

"Shove off," Harry said. "You've had your chance to say whatever. Now go."

Draco turned to him, sneering and crossing his arms while his two bodyguards grunted at him. "Excuse me? Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, a priggish prat."

"What's your name?"

"H—James Evans."

Harry definitely wasn't going to give Draco the satisfaction of meeting him.

"Evans? Not a proper wizarding name, eh. Figures, you'd be a disgusting _mudblood_," Draco said, his upper lip curling. "I'd watch my step if I were you."

"Shove off," Harry repeated, not the least bit intimidated by the threat.

Draco scoffed. "Come find me Theo when you're ready to stop rolling around in the mud." He threw another nasty scowl at Harry before he snapped his fingers. His bodyguards lumbered away and the compartment door was closed with a sharp _snap_.

Great, he made an enemy before school started. He supposed to be on his best behavior, _or else_.

"What's a mudblood?" Hermione asked. "It sounds… unpleasant."

"It's a slur used against muggleborns usually by old, magical—pureblood— families. It implies that muggleborns have dirty blood, that the magic they have is unduly given; sullied. Since the number of pureblood families are dwindling and the population of wizards is leaning more and more toward being a half-blood, the term mudblood has become unacceptable in most social settings," Theodore said, short and clipped.

"That's h—"

"Are you and that git purewhatever's?" Harry asked, his hands balling into fists. "Do you think me and Hermione are less than?"

Theo wasn't fazed by Harry's tone.

"Granger is the only muggleborn in this compartment. Potter, you are a half-blood. Longbottom and I are pureblood's. The answer to your question: _No_. I make my own observations. Blood has little to do with anything."

Harry settled back in his seat, nodding once. He was learning a lot about the wizarding world, it wasn't exactly a fairytale. He sorta wished he was back home now. Next week, he would've been going to a football academy with normal lads without the blood purity and people knowing him for some odd reason.

Around twelve, there was knock on their door. Neville and Hermione tensed while Harry swore under his breath. He didn't know any magic yet but if that pointy boy was back he swore…

"Anything from the trolley?"

It was like the clouds opened, and a glimpse of heaven was seen. Harry hopped from his seat and opened the door to the sight of cheery plump lady at the helm of cart filled with sweets.

A large grin wormed its way onto his face, his hand was already deep into his pockets diving for notes and the weird coins from Gringotts. Maybe he spoke too soon… one perk about going to a magical boarding school was Aunt Tunia and Benjamin weren't there to scold him about his sweet intake or even say "No."

He scanned the cart, not even knowing where to start or what to order. There wasn't a _Mars Bar_ in sight. Still, he pulled out a £5 and three golden coins and seven silver coins, Galleons and Sickles, he thought they were called, he held them out in offering. "Can I have a bit of everything."

"Sure dear." she only took a galleon and sickle from him.

"Be careful not to ruin your appetite," she warned as she handed him a bag filled with two of everything.

_I'm eleven years old, ma'am, does this look like my first sweets run?_

"Thank you," he said.

He politely waited until the lady was gone before he went back into the compartment, triumphantly holding up the plastic bag out to his —friends?— like it was coveted treasure.

"Who wants candy?"

Harry sat back down in his seat, spilling out the contents between him and Hermione. All in all, it piled up like a small, colorful mountain. "Take whatever you want," he said, reaching for a brightly blue-wrapped frog thing.

Surprisingly, it was Neville, who took dibs after Harry with a small wobbly smile and a quiet, "Thanks."

Theodore was next. He grabbed a pack of Acid Pops and Ice Mice. A crisp nod was the only acknowledgement Harry received before Theodore was once again sucked into his book. Harry really wanted to ask what was so blooming interesting about the book, he swore he had never seen a kid so vested in a _book_.

"Hermione?"

She was biting her bottom lip. Her fingers doing a weird twitchy-dance on the cover of _Hogwarts: A History_

"I can't!" Hermione said. "I'm allowed only sugar-free candy and that's only on Halloween and Valentine's. My parents are dentists, they say candy rots your teeth."

Oh. He understood.

He threw a package of what sorta looked like Peeps onto Hermione's lap (if he bothered to notice he'd see Sugar Quills in elegant cursive).

"Your parents aren't here, eat them."

"But— the pictures of holes in your teeth from excessive—"

"With all due respect Hermione, shut up."

She balked. Her words gone.

"Your parents aren't here, they won't find out."

"But." her eyes were wide and she was shaking her head, like even glancing at the candy was a sin.

"Eat the candy, Hermione."

She draw a shaky breath, nodding at him once, then opening the package. She was clinical about it. Everything so clean and precise. When the plastic fell away she picked up a single Quill, fat with pink sugar and marshmallow fluff.

She took one bite, more of a nibble than anything. A bit of pink glitter stained her bottom lip.

"… good?"

Hermione had another bite, like Jaws, she tore into the Sugar Quill down to the stub.

"Great," she said, swallowing it down and reaching for another.

Harry grinned at her. Shyly, Hermione returned it. Then and there, Harry decided he and Hermione were going to get along famously.

"So," Harry tore off a chocolate leg from his frog. "Has anybody practiced any spells; I tried _Bombarda_ and my aunt wasn't pleased…"


	11. Chapter 11

**You guys! I'm so ASDFGHJKLGWAHHHHH AT THE MOMENT. A _thousand_ plus followers for this little story?! Like wow, just wow, WOW! I appreciate each and every one of you, and I thank you for all the support you've given me.**

**i'm still in awe.**

**Cedric is officially Cedric-senpai in Harry's eyes, and Harry is a great finder…lol;P **

**chapter is dreadfully unbeta'd, so feel free to point out any and all mistakes.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

"Best put your robes on if you haven't, we'll be stopping any moment now," said a random older student, she poked in. A shiny badge pinned to her black robes.

Hermione was quick to push them out of the compartment to change. Then, it was their turn, well, Neville and Theodore's turn. Harry had been ready for hours.

All too soon, the train came to a stop. Their doors snapped open. Yet another student with a shiny badge sprinted down the halls, a wand pointed to his throat, "First years, Leave your luggage! First years, Leave your luggage! First years, Leave your luggage! It will be taken care of!"

Theodore was the first to step out, Neville followed him, Hermione behind him, and Harry behind her. Crowded and loud. It was a contained chaos as they were led off the train, out into the chilly night.

The older students immediately parted; they disappeared into the hole of darkness on the left. For what felt like an eternity—at least to Harry—they were left in a confused, huddled mass on the cobbled ground, cold and shivering.

A man lumbered into their view, "Firs' years follow me! Firs' years follow me!" he called.

He was freaking _huge_.

Giant, Harry would say.

Like two and a half Uncle Vernon's stacked atop one another, just as thick too, with a lot more scruffy black hair on his chin and head. Hermione tugged sharply on his robe. She sounded a lot like Aunt Tunia when she hissed that it was rude to stare.

Harry didn't think it was so rude when the giant-man was staring back at him every few seconds. A weird glimmer in his black eyes as he led them, the new students of Hogwarts, down a dark, narrow pathway. It held a ghostly type of vibe, like the haunted houses at the amusement park. A single moving lampshade their only light; white mist curling around their ankles, and Harry spotted the faint outlines of branches hiding in the shadows around them.

"Watch yer step," the man said as the narrow path suddenly opened up to a gravelly beach and pitch-black lake. Just ahead, Harry spotted a sprawling castle straight out of a fairytale with many, many towers and glowing windows.

"No more'n than four to a boat," the man said.

Hermione was already walking toward one Neville beside her. Harry hurried to catch up. "Where's Theodore?" he asked as soon as they were seated. The boat having pushed off by itself.

Hermione and Neville shrugged. Harry frowned. He was hoping to talk to Theodore a bit more since the train ride. Maybe to draw out real words from him besides grunts and quick glances.

His frown didn't stay in place for long. It couldn't in the face of Hogwarts. The castle was perched precariously on a huge mountain and the windows alit in a yellow-orange. He spotted thousands of tiny candlesticks behind their panes. The castle, even more awesomely, seemed to shine under the starry sky. There was also distinctive hum Hogwarts gave off like some sort of welcoming hello.

"Wow," he said.

Hermione and Neville nodded their agreement. He wished Benjamin was here. Surely, he would've felt the same level of astonishment.

Before he knew it, the boats were docked and once again they were being led through a dark tunnel. If this was all pomp and circumstance to build up the nerves, they were doing a splendid job. Harry didn't realize how nervous he was until they got to the huge doors— at least three times as big as the giant-man— and, the man was knocking.

The door opened and there was a woman that ushered them inside. Fear and awe separated his year mates as they all gathered in front of the one woman in the entrance hall. It was _big_, like bigger than any house in Little Whinging with flaming torches (was electricity a thing in WW?) and cobblestone floors. There were shined statues of armor— a lot staircases actually moved— and when he actually looked up he realized he couldn't see the ceiling, just stairs and portraits— and to the left of him there was another huge door and he could hear a lot of voices eagerly talking— and what was that—

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," said the woman. The giant-man—Hagrid— nodded once and sent another look at Harry before he disappeared inside the huge doors.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall," Professor McGonagall introduced. Her voice matching her stern appearance. She was the type of woman Aunt Tunia would like on principle alone. Everything, from her emerald cloak to her black hair pulled into a strict bun, seemed to be very orderly and very clean.

Harry tuned her out while she explained each of the Houses and their noble heritage and notable wizards and witches because he had already read such in _Hogwarts: A History. _He was much more interested in this "Sorting Ceremony" and how it worked.

His nerves intensified. What did the ceremony entail? What if he couldn't be sorted and therefore he wasn't a real wizard. This could all be a big mistake. It wasn't such a terrible thought. He would be able to go back home after all, but the embarrassment alone!

Hermione immediately started to list all the spells she knew and Neville looked like he was ready to throw up, or pass out, as he clutched Trevor to his chest like a stuffed teddy.

"… smarten yourselves up while you're waiting…" was it just him or did Professor McGonagall look at him specifically? He reached up and tried to flatten his hair. He should've of listened to Mum before he left and, brushed his hair.

Professor McGonagall left the Hall. The chattering broke loose.

The blond git was loudly telling everyone how his Father did whatever and knew whatever, and how he was prepared in every way possible.

"My brothers said we would have to fight a troll."

Harry turned so fast to the source he was sure he got whiplash. "You're joking, right?"

He couldn't be expected to fight a Troll. Bombarda worked out pretty well for him. It had given him explosive results, evident by the deep, sizzling hole left in Aunt Tunia's backyard, but was that enough?

The redhead blinked at him in surprise, his companions copying him. "Uh yeah, that's what my brothers said, but I think it's a load. They're always joking." He smiled sheepishly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank God._

_"_Hullo Harry."

Harry grinned. "Hello Dean." He was pleased to see another friendly face. He met him the same day as Hermione. Instead of barreling him over like he had done with Hermione in Flourish and Blott's, they both shared a moment in the Quidditch shop when they declared football to be the loads better than Quidditch (although Harry still wanted a chance to fly on a broom).

"This place is mental," he said. Dean nodded, sharing the same wide-eyed look of 'what-did-I-get-myself-into.'

"You didn't tell us you knew Harry Potter," the small freckled-boy said, a distinctive accent in his voice. He was shooting him the same gaze of wonder Neville had on the train.

Harry stepped back.

Dean shrugged.

"Listen, I don't know what I'm famous for. Honestly. If anyone asks I'm James Evans," Harry said. He knew he sounded like a crazy person, but this was a legitimate precaution. He didn't like the reaction he was getting every time his name was mentioned.

It was weird.

"And you have a spot of dirt on your nose," Harry said to the redheaded boy, rubbing his own nose to show the boy. "What's your name?"

"Ron Weasley," the redheaded boy said. Ron stared for a bit, eyes glued to his forehead before giving him a small smile.

"Seamus Finnegan," the freckled boy said.

"Nice to meet both of you, would any of you like a chocolate frog or ha—"

The doors opened. Their chatters ceased. Somehow, they all fell into a line. They inched into the Great Hall. Hundreds of eyes on them.

_Hello nerves, I almost forgot about you. _

Hermione, at his side, muttered about the impressive enchantment that made the starry ceiling and, the candles that floated. All of which was information found in _Hogwarts: A History._

Professor McGonagall was at the front of the humongous hall. Behind her was a long table with people, Harry guessed them to be their future professors. A large scroll was in her hand. A rickety old stool and a patched witch's hat at her side.

Like in the entrance hall Harry was stunned by the sheer size. Four long tables were stretched out under the banners of: a yellow and black badger, Hufflepuff; a blue and bronze eagle, Ravenclaw; a green and silver snake, Slytherin; and a red and gold lion, Gryffindor. There were also a lot of transparent people—ghosts, he realized, floating around.

_Ghostbusters_ got it all wrong. They weren't green and bulbous leaving a trail of slimy ectoplasm. Nor did they seem malevolent like in the _Poltergeist_. Well, not all seemed malevolent (he side-eyed a ghost that floated near the Slytherin table; he looked like he had been stabbed multiple times). He wanted to speak to a ghost, preferably friendly, like the one that had been waving to them all nice-like. The Fat Friar, he called himself, formerly of Hufflepuff.

Again, Harry's musings were cut short when the Hat started to sing. It was a short song. It spelled out the main traits of each house and how the Hat was going to sort them. The Great Hall burst into applause.

Harry's nerves loosened from their knot just a bit when he realized a hat would do the sorting. No trials of magic. No battling trolls. _But?_ What if he had none of their traits, or even worse, what if he had all of them? Then, he'd be singled out as some great wizard, which he wasn't. But apparently he was for… living… ?

_"_When I call your name you will sit on the stool with the hat and be sorted," Professor McGonagall said.

Harry grimaced. So much for remaining under the radar.

She unfurled her scroll. "Abbott, Hannah…" the first name up.

She was a Hufflepuff as was the girl after her.

Aside from his impending doom, Harry noticed that the sortings was relatively quick. Most sat under the hat for thirty seconds. If you were Draco Malfoy, the hat barely touched your head, and you were already in a House. Seamus, Hermione, Neville, and Theodore were people that took a long time. Three of which were sorted into Gryffindor quite happily as seen by their relieved grins. Theodore was sorted into Slytherin like Draco, although Harry was pretty sure Theodore threw a minute look at Ravenclaw.

Interesting.

All too soon Professor McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry." It didn't help that he was one of the last ones.

The Great Hall exploded into loud whispers. All eyes followed him, weighing about ten pounds each, as he slinked up to the stool. He sat down with a gulp. He tried to control the quake in his hands. He was given a glimpse of the whole student body; their open expressions of awe glued on him. McGonagall dropped the hat on his head, the wide black rim acted as a welcome curtain to the rest of the world.

"Hmm, where should I put you," said a small voice. He guessed it to be the hat. "Difficult. Very difficult. Courage in spades, a strong mind, even a hint of ambition… where should I put you?"

_I don't care. Anywhere will do._

_"_Anywhere_, _eh? Slytherin will make you great. Gryffindor will bring you acclaim, and Ravenclaw will harness your thirst for knowledge."

_Just sort me._

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Wait._

The hat was pulled off his head. The Hufflepuff table erupted into noisy cheers. Harry sent them a shy smile. He wished that he had been sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin with Hermione or Theodore, but Hufflepuff was fine.

He slid into a bench next to bronze-haired boy with grey eyes and, a dazzling crooked smile. Harry was sure he was the type of guy that all girls mooned over.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff," he said. "I'm Cedric Diggory. Third Year. " he held out his hand.

Harry shook it. "I would say my name, but I've a feeling you already know it."

"Cheeky."

Harry grinned at Cedric. He certainly wasn't the first person to say that, he was certain he wouldn't be the last. He turned slightly in his seat to hear the last of the sortings. Dean in Gryffindor (he immediately saddled back up with Seamus and Ron), Lisa Turpin in Ravenclaw, and lastly Blaise Zabini in Slytherin.

Harry almost wanted to ask if there was like a prerequisite on appearance to be sorted in Slytherin. He noticed the few who been sorted into Slytherin either had a confident, almost arrogant swagger like Draco, or they were cool as cucumbers like Blaise and Theodore.

The sortings were done. Harry was hungry.

An old man, at the head of the professor's table stood up, and once again the Great Hall was silent. Harry leaned toward Cedric, almost afraid his voice would be heard. "Who's that?" he whispered.

"Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster," Cedric said. He didn't move his eyes from the man, neither did Harry. He was dressed more eccentrically than any person in the hall. Half-moon glasses hung down his crooked nose, he wore brightly colored robes with a long, white beard. He reminded Harry of Merlin in the _Sword in the Stone_.

"Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak. Thank you." Albus Dumbledore sat back down.

The Great Hall burst into applause like he had delivered some great speech.

Harry was confused.

"He's a great wizard. He discovered seven uses for dragon's blood, duelled both Dark Lords and won, and has received the highest Order of Merlin plus several other titles," Cedric said as he and Harry spun to face the table. Harry's eyes widened at the amount food and the variety. There was _so_ much.

Harry helped himself to some pot roast and a side of chips and sweet corn. A sense satisfaction swept over him, his cousin, Dudley, probably was receiving some subpar version of this at Smeltings.

"He's just a bit… erm?"

"Mad," Cedric said around a piece of ham. "Yes. You'd be surprised at how many honored witches and wizards in history were off their rocker."

Oh. He glanced at Dumbledore once more before he fell into conversation with the others. Throughout dinner he had been asked— no less than seven times from _different_ people— if:

A. He remembered anything from _that night, _a night that no one had yet explained.

B. Could they see his scar(how did they know about that)?

C. Did he have a pet unicorn, a phoenix familiar, and was he heir to seven of the most powerful magical ancient houses including Slytherin and Gryffindor.

The last one was strange, but it seemed to be common theme in several fictitious novels written about him. Something about renewal and purity, and him being the most powerful wizard translated into political and monetary value as well.

2 out of the 3 were a resounding no (and a silent question if he was going to be bothered by questions like these by everyone). He showed his scar while Cedric laughed at his side, somewhat-jokingly telling him he could transfigure an item into a hairclip so, he wouldn't have to keep swiping his hair up and down.

"Yes," Harry said. "That's a brilliant idea, a headband would be nice." He owned a collection of hair clips and headbands for when he played football.

Cedric laughed harder. He took out his wand, and with a flourish spelled a piece of random bit of parchment into a plastic headband stripped yellow and black. He handed it to Harry.

"How did you do that?" Harry slipped on the headband.

"Transfiguration," Cedric said, pocketing his wand. "Professor McGonagall teaches it."

"Who teaches what?" he nibbled on a chip.

"Since you're a first year, you'll only have to take core classes and probably the same deal next year too," Cedric pulled a face like he was remembering something unpleasant. He held up a hand, ticking teachers off. "You'll have Professor Sprout for Herbology, she's our Head of House; Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration, she's Head of Gryffindor; Professor Flitwick for Charms, he's Head of Ravenclaw; Professor Snape for Potion, he's Head of Slytherin and it's best not to get on his bad side.

"I think Astronomy is required for first years, Professor Sinistra teaches that; Madam Hooch for Flying—"

"Flying? We'll be learning how to fly?"

That was going to be fun. Harry could already tell. He entertained the thought of flying when he made his way into the quidditch shop and saw all the racing brooms, but Benjamin pulled him away with a resolute no.

"Yes, you can't be a proper wizard without learning how to fly," Cedric winked. "I've been seeker of the Hufflepuff team since second year, so if you need any pointers…"

Harry nodded furiously. He couldn't wait for that.

"Yes, Madam Hooch is the Flying Instructor and she officiates all Quidditch matches. I think that's all."

"What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked a flat-faced boy to Harry's right. He was in the middle of cutting up his steak. Ernie was his name. "In _Hogwarts: A History _it says no teacher has been able to hold the spot for more than a year in the last four decades. Is it true?"

"Yes," Cedric sighed. "Professor's are driven out or they die. Last year, Professor Fauna turned in her resignation a month before it became a full year. I wonder about our new professor, usually Dumbled— speak of Morgana."

Dumbledore rose from chair and the food disappeared off the plates. There were no shush to quiet down or teachers yelling, Harry had to wonder how much power and respect the old man wielded to control such a large crowd.

"A few words before we head off to bed. Professor Quirrell has come back to the Hogwarts Family to take the position as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts." A man in a large purple turban stood from his chair momentarily to give them all a nervous smile. "And Professor Burbage will be joining us as the Muggle Studies teacher."

"Curious first-years should note the Forbidden Forrest is forbidden as is the third-floor corridor unless you wish to die a painful death," Dumbledore said plainly as if speaking about the weather.

He couldn't resist a nervous titter. "He's joking."

"Probably not. The third floor has never been forbidden."

Harry had nothing to say to that. His primary school's protocols were massively different. They weren't allowed to use real scissors until Year 5, and was on a lockdown at the slightest hint of threat. To now to be in a school where death lurked two floors above.

_Wow_.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, would like to remind you that no magic is allowed between classes," the statement seemed to be pointed at the Gryffindor table.

"Quidditch trials are held the second week of the term; anyone interested in playing should contact Madam Hooch or speak to their Quidditch captain's."

Harry perked. He was definitely trying out. What other sort of clubs did Hogwarts have? Maybe a dueling club or a club for snake speakers… maybe a football club, if he dared to wish. He bet Dean and him could start one if they didn't. He wanted to be a professional football player, it had been his dream since forever, so he needed a way to polish his skills while he was here. He doubted, "I was learning magic, so, I didn't have time to practice. Sorry," would fly.

Dumbledore finished the night with the off-tuned Hogwarts song, which greatly amused him before they were shooed off to bed. Harry wished he had time to bid Hermione and Neville a goodnight, but a redhead that looked a lot like Ron was already sweeping the Gryffindor table along.

Harry played follow the leader. Cedric disappeared. He was left behind Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch. He didn't quite realize how tired he was until he was dragging his feet, trying to keep his eyes open and yawns to a minimum.

He was lucky in a way. He saw a scuttling Gryffindor go up a flight of stairs along with a portion of Ravenclaw's. It seemed the Hufflepuff dormitory was somewhere on the first floor, only two hallways away from the Great Hall.

It was shadowed in a dark corridors — near the kitchen— with tens of large barrels stacked high. Gabriel Truman, their prefect, gathered them all around.

"We have few rules in Hufflepuff. One rule: no telling other Houses where our entrance is. No one outside of Hufflepuff has been inside our common rooms. We'd like to keep it that way," he cracked a grin.

He tapped his wand on the barrel two levels from the bottom directly in the middle. His wand followed the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff's name. The barrel opened to reveal a wide tunnel door.

"Learn the password, firsties; unless, you'll smell like vinegar for weeks," Gabriel said.

Harry was too tired to guess at what he meant. He dived in after Hannah and the others, feeling silly. He had to crawl his way through as if he were on the playground going through the tube tunnel.

It was well worth it. His sleepiness receded. He took in his common room. The room was circular, spacious. Blades of bright green grass and honeysuckle twisted on the windows around them. The floor was open like a mini-field with flowers, grass, and potted plants. It was snapshot of spring or a perfect day of summer; Harry loved it.

Gabriel gathered them in front of an empty fireplace. The portraits of Helga Hufflepuff and an awake brown badger hung above him. Gabriel smoothed down his auburn hair.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff! I'm delighted to see so many first years!" he placed a hands on his hips. "If you didn't catch it, I'm your prefect, Gabriel Truman. Any trouble you have don't hesitate to talk to me, I'm usually here, or in the kitchen inquiring about dinner and if I can have a taste."

That earned him a few chuckles.

"Schedules will given out in the morning. A map of Hogwarts will be printed on the other-side of the schedules. I must stress that you use them. Teachers like McGonagall and Snape do not accept any tardiness, even if the stairs are feeling shifty," he sounded bitter.

"I know you all are tired. I'll make this quick. Try your hardest and you'll succeed. If you have problems, ask. Don't let the House define you. We've produced a great number of wizards like Bridget Wenlock." there was a note of pride in Gabriel's voice.

"But… Hufflepuff's get away with a lot of shit, there are benefits to being in a House that no one cares for." He sent them a mischievous grin, his brown eyes glinted.

"Ok," he clapped his hands. "As you can see on my left and right there are barrels. Left side is for boys and, right side is for girls. Do not attempt to go into either if you're the opposite sex, you'll be sticky with pumpkin juice or butterbeer, and then, we will laugh. A lot."

He opened the doors.

"Keep left to find the first year dormitory for boys, and keep right to find the girls' dormitory," Gabriel said.

Ernie was the first of the boys to go through the barrel. Harry after him. The two others behind him. Like before; it was a ridiculous sort of large crawl space in a lit tunnel with many, many pathways. They kept left until they abruptly slid down onto a floor, which felt like a mix between hardwood and squishy mud.

Their room was large and circular like their common room. Four poster beds were pushed off to the walls in a circular fashion. They were adorned with copper lamp and bed warmers. Their trunks at the foot. Harry's bed was the closest to the entrance. Normally, he'd be excited to explore or talk, but he was tired.

He yawned; he could do all that tomorrow.

He kicked off his trainers, sliding into bed. His headband and glasses were pulled off. He set them near the side of his pillow. He reached out and closed the dark yellow curtains around his bed for some measure of privacy before actually settling down.

The quilt he laid under was patchwork; it was thick and warm with a distinct smell of dewy sweetness. The bed was comfy too. He was comfortable.

For all his tiredness and comfort he found himself laying flat on his back. He stared up at the dark ceiling. Wide awake. It seemed silly, but it was hard to fall asleep. He had no particular routine for bedtime. Usually, lights were off by 8:30, 9 if it was a special occasion and, he drifted by 9:15.

It was much later than 9:15, that he knew, yet here he was… his fingers drummed on his quilt.

He knew what the problem was. He just didn't want to say it. He turned on his side and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to suppress the sharp sting at the corner of his eyes, and straying thoughts leading back to Surrey. He pulled his quilt up under his chin.

_Goodnight…_

_•_

_Harry._

"You've been staring at the ceiling for hours," Lily said.

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Will you stop staring at the ceiling?"

"Maybe."

"Benjamin."

Slowly, he turned his eyes toward Lily. She pulled a sympathetic face.

"Yes," he said.

"You miss him."

_Obviously_.

"It's just so… empty," Benjamin said, drifting back to the ceiling. "There's nothing for me to do." He couldn't remember what he wanted to do before he met Harry.

"Pick up a hobby."

_I had a hobby called Harry. _

Benjamin shrugged, "Maybe." He doubted anything would be able fill up the Harry-sized hole in his life.

Lily's laughter filled the room, "Remus was right!"

Benjamin slowly sat up. "Lily? Are you all alright?"

She nodded, laughing through gasping breathes, her cheeks red enough to match her hair. "I'm sorry… I just remembered what Remus—my friend— said about empty nest syndrome."

Benjamin was confused and a little scared. He figured the best thing was to let Lily get her giggles out. She did, minutes later. A large grin on her face.

"It really hits men the hardest when their babies leave the nest. One time we sent Harry over to Sirius' for a day, and James was in the same position! He moped around Harry's playroom and toys, sighing his name," Lily broke off into another fit of giggles.

_I wasn't sighing. _

"Who are Sirius and Remus?" Benjamin asked.

"Harry's godfathers. Well, Sirius is Harry's named godfather, but both fill the position," Lily said.

"Oh."

"Sirius and Remus," Lily said. All traces of amusement gone.

"Sirius and Remus?"

"Sirius and Remus," Lily repeated. "_Sirius and Remus! _I can't believe I overlooked them for all these years!" she started to mutter.

"They were named in the will… not as Harry's guardians, but James included them in those he wanted a portion of shares distributed too. I'm sure we gave them the address of Petunia's if something ever happened to us—which it did— so, they could continue to visit Harry— has anyone ever come looking for Harry?"

"No."

"Has Petunia mentioned anyone?"

"Never."

"Strange," she said. "May I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"Write two letters, one to Remus Lupin and the other to Sirius Black. Do you have an owl?"

"I have a falcon," Benjamin said. Harry chose a white, snowy owl for his pet to take to Hogwarts. Benjamin went in a similar direction. He purchased a falcon to keep in contact with Harry.

"Close enough."

"Do you want me to write now?"

"Depends," Lily said. She crossed her arms. "Will you go back to your ceiling-watching if I say no?"

"Probably."

"Go write the letters," Lily shooed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**College. Homework. Laziness. Ew. **

**I have two pre-written chapters; I should update this Friday. **

**Unbeta'd. Read with caution.**

**Thanks to all my followers, favoriters, reviewers, and lurkers.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Friday, it seemed, was the official day parents and guardians mailed their kids back.

Hundreds of owls streamed into the Great Hall. Almost of all of them dropped parcels and letters into the laps of students. Some owls had better aim than others. Harry struggled not to stare at the poor Ravenclaw, tables away. She had bits of white porridge stuck to her face and a rapidly sinking letter in her bowl.

Horus and Hedwig circled him.

Horus, Benjamin's falcon, dropped a bundle of letters in his lap. Horus turned enormous black eyes on Harry. He assessed Harry for a long moment before he took off. Harry was grateful Horus wasn't the affectionate type with nips to the ear or finger, nor did Horus steal from his plate… unlike Hedwig who helped herself to all of his ham.

She had dropped her letter in front of his plate. Harry guessed a reply was needed right away because Hedwig didn't budge from her spot in front of him. Harry ripped open the letter, surprised to see the giant-man, Hagrid, had invited him for tea. Harry remembered Hagrid's glances on his way to Hogwarts. It couldn't hurt to see why Hagrid was so fascinated with him.

He borrowed a lone quill on the table and wrote out a quick reply on the back of the letter. Hedwig yanked it out of his hand before the ink dried. She 'barked' at him before she took off.

"Would you like to have tea with me and Hagrid?" Harry asked Hermione. He scooped some of his egg on the toast.

Hermione sat across from him. She lowered the Daily Prophet–an item had been stolen; the goblins weren't happy– her eyebrows raised. Harry spent most of his breakfasts and some of his lunches at the Gryffindor table. "The Gameskeeper?"

"Is that what he is?"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "He invited you for tea?"

"At three, yes," Harry said. He chewed a good bit of his toast before he spoke "I'll invite Theo." He turned to the round-faced boy beside Hermione. "You can come along too, Neville."

"Isn't it rude to add more people to an invitation?" Hermione asked with a tone that implied she thought it was rude.

"The more the merrier," Harry said. "Since you don't want to be rude does that mean you aren't going?"

Hermione flushed. "I never said that."

Harry grinned. He finished the last of his toast and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Hermione cringed at him, she pushed a napkin into his hand. Harry made a show of dabbing his lips.

"We'll meet back here after class," Harry said.

Hermione nodded. Neville mumbled something under his breath. Harry twisted around, he faced the Slytherin table at the other side of the Hall. He was too happy that pointy-boy, Malfoy, was almost-always late for breakfast. He could speak to Theo without interference.

"See you in Defense," Harry said over his shoulder. He grabbed his letters and made his way to Slytherin table. Harry resisted the urge to squirm. It had been practically a week and still most of the student body goggled at him.

Harry found it strange how the Slytherin table was setup. They sat in some sort of order. From what Harry gathered, the younger students sat at the ends of the Slytherin table. The older students were situated in more extricate way. They centered around a boy, an upper-year, with a nasty smile. Harry didn't spare much thought to seating arrangements beyond that.

Happy that the younger Slytherins were approachable, Harry slid in beside a dark-skinned boy, Blaise Zabini. He offered Zabini a smile. "G'mornin' Theo."

"James Evans." Theo lifted his eyes from his cereal bowl.

The other Slytherins snickered around their breakfast. Harry blotched red. Theo was never going to let that go!

"D'you want to have tea with Hagrid, Hermione, maybe Neville, and me?" Harry asked.

Theo scooped out his spoonful of his… his… they looked like green cheerios. Did wizards eat regular cereal brand? "The Gameskeeper?"

Harry held back a groan. The way both Hermione and Theo said Hagrid's title as if it were that puzzling.

"Yes. Do you want to go or not?"

"All right."

"Great! We're meeting back he—"

"Potter, I see you've finally gathered some sense and started sucking up to your betters," Malfoy said with that irritating drawl of his. Harry clenched his fist. He stood up from the Slytherin table.

"We'll be meeting here," Harry said. He brushed passed Malfoy.

Malfoy grabbed onto the sleeve of his black robe. "I was talking to you."

Harry jerked his sleeve back. "I wasn't listening," he said coolly.

Malfoy colored. His dummies growled. Harry wasn't scared. He knew Malfoy type; he was all-talk.

"Potter!" Malfoy hissed. "My Father–"

"Go on, prove to me and everybody how much of a Daddy's boy you are," Harry said.

"Potter," a silky voice interrupted. Harry shivered. Of course, _of course_, Snape would appear when Malfoy needed him. Severus Snape, the Potions Professor, was quieter than the Bloody Baron and a thousand times more terrifying.

Depthless, cold black eyes locked onto Harry.

"Hogwarts does not tolerate teasing, even from celebrities." His upper lip curled. "Two points from Hufflepuff."

"But sir, Malfoy started it…"

"I have finished it. Another point off for cheek."

Harry's mouth dropped. Snape wasn't being fair! What about Malfoy, the git choked beside him struggling to hold in his giggles; why wasn't he getting punished?

"Sir." Harry ducked his head. He skittered around Snape and walked out of the Great Hall. Harry clutched his letters close. Suddenly, Hagrid's tea invitation sounded much, much more appealing. Anything to get the nasty taste of Snape and his unfairness out of his mouth.

Harry sulked on the way back to the Hufflepuff dorm room. He was the only one in his dorm room; the others back in the Great Hall. Harry was on his bed, his schoolbooks and wand jostled with his added weight. He had roughly twenty minutes before his first class.

He supposed he could go over swish-and-flick, or… he looked down at the bundle of letters in his hands. He had three sizable envelopes. A slow smile crept on Harry's face. Munchkin was written in loopy cursive on the bulkiest letter, the one addressed as Harry was written in neat print, and Nephew was the last one in elegant cursive.

He opened Munchkin first.

Harry rocked on his feet just outside the Great Hall. It was ten minutes before three. Theo had arrived before Harry did.

"Neville's not coming?" Harry asked Hermione when she arrived.

Hermione grimaced. "There was an accident in Potions; Seamus took Neville to the Hospital Wing."

Harry mirrored her. "I suppose we'll just have to fill him in." Harry sensed this would be a regular occurrence. Neville was the definition of accident-prone. Hermione nodded.

They walked, all three of them, across the vast green of the Front Lawn. Hagrid's cottage sat at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry spared an anxious glance at the Forest; it was dark and foreboding even under the brunt of the afternoon sun, Harry waited for a terrible monster to spring out.

Thankfully, no such thing happened.

Harry didn't have to knock. The door to the cottage swung open when they huddled on the worn Welcome mat. Hagrid's smiled down at them. "Come in, come in, make yerselves at home. The kettle is on— Fang, quiet down!" He pushed aside a large black hunting dog.

Harry laughed when both Theo and Hermione shot looks at him. He filed in; Harry felt absurdly small in the cottage. Everything was huge.

Fat pheasants and hams hung from the ceiling. There was a massive unmade bed in the corner with a fluffy quilt hanging at its corners. A gigantic roundtable and a couple of chairs, a big fire… the space was cluttered, Aunt Tunia would have a heart attack at the mess for sure, but it was homey.

Harry sat in one of the three chairs, which could fit three of him. Hermione shared the chair; Theo had a chair all to himself, or well, he did until Fang took a liking to him. Fang rested his black-head on Theo's leg and drooled. The only thing that stopped Harry's laughter was Theo's baleful glare.

"These are my friends," Harry introduced when Hagrid began pouring tea into their tin cups. "Neville's not here, sorry. This is Hermione." He pointed as she waved and said a polite Hello. "And Theo."

"I went ter school wit' Deimos Nott," Hagrid said gruffly.

Harry swore Theo turned pale.

Harry frowned. "Are you just a Gameskeeper?" he asked.

Hagrid turned his attention back to Harry, his face instantly shifted. "M'not jus' a Gamekeeper, I keep the cogs a turnin' in 'ogwarts." Hagrid launched into his duties, which were interesting. Hagrid apparently had powers that Dumbledore didn't have. He could walk the Forbidden Forest alone and no creature would harm him.

"Enough about me. Tell me abo' yerselves, first week done?"

Harry, Hermione, and Theo glanced amongst themselves: who would start? Eventually, Hermione and Theo pinned their eyes on Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. Cowards.

"It's different," Harry said. "But I like it. Wednesday, I flew on a broom and it was bloody amazing!"

"Harry!" admonished Hermione.

Hagrid roared with laughter. He had the type of laugh Harry always imagined Father Christmas to have: deep, merry, and warm. Hagrid's black eyes twinkled with secret knowledge.

"Professor McGonagall isn't the type to cross," Harry said. He thought back to Tuesday and the firm scolding he and his classmates received when the bell rung. "She's cool too. I even got a few points for making my match shiny.

"My head of house, Professor Sprout, would make Aunt Tunia go mad. She's got dirt everywhere and she's so cheery until someone interrupts her lesson."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Professor Sprout had called him out the first day of class when she caught him talking to Padma, a Ravenclaw.

"Professor Binns is a wrinkled bore."

"There are petitions ev'ry year to exorcise 'im."

Harry hoped one of those petitions went through. He'd go barmy if he had to listen to Professor Binns talk about the Goblin Wars for seven years.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is a bit of letdown. Professor Quirrell…" Harry mulled over the right word to use for him. Dud came to mind to describe the lackluster teacher.

Hagrid scratched his scruffy beard as if he could hear Harry's thoughts. "Me understand. Always been a quiet boy, smart as a whip, but kept 'imself a lot durin' his time here and after." His thick eyebrows smushed together. "Took a year off to study th' Trolls in the Black Forest; dangerous, only dir't sunlight will stop'em." His words were pointed as if Harry would go off and attempt to something similar. "Came back diff'rent."

Different indeed.

"Snape is a nasty git. He has it out for me," Harry said suddenly.

"Harry!" Hermione said again. "Professor Snape—!"

Harry didn't want to hear Hermione come to defense for that large, greasy-haired bat. Unfortunately, Hagrid seemed to take Hermione's side.

"Nonsense," Hagrid said. He waved his hand. "Snape is a respect'd teacher, handpicked by Dumbledore 'imself."

"Dumbledore made a mistake," Harry huffed. "He called on me the first-day of class about wormwood and bezeor-whatever, and when I didn't know it he made it out like I was completely thick."

"It's bezoar, Harry," Hermione said. "And, that's normal. Professor McGonagall—"

"No. Professor McGonagall is nothing like Snape. Snape doesn't even care. He looks down from his stupid hook nose, like I'm gum under his shoe."

"Enough!" roared Hagrid.

Harry flinched back in his seat. He blinked owlishly at Hagrid. In this short time, he didn't think Hagrid would ever be the type to use such a tone against them. "I'm tellin' ye he doesn't have it out for yer."

Harry would've believed Hagrid if it wasn't for the fact that Hagrid couldn't look him in the eye. He knew it. Harry just had to figure out what he did to Snape, so the git would stop terrorizing him — at least Malfoy sorta had a reason for being horrible to him.

"… does it have something to do with me being a celebrity?" Harry mumbled. His stomach rumbled. He decided to chance it and grabbed a muffin from the center plate. It was rock-solid.

"Hagrid?" Harry managed to chip off a crumb. "D'you know why everybody stares me all the time; did something happen with my family?"

Harry gathered that much in his first week here. Most of the teachers had paused with his name on the roll. And the students, those brave enough to approach him, often started conversations with "You're _Harry Potter_?"

Harry supposed it wouldn't be so bad if he had famous family; maybe he'd come into some type of cool inheritance. Then, he could rub it in Malfoy's face that he was just as special as a pureblood.

"Oh Harry," Hermione said. She latched to his arm.

Harry looked at her, wondering what had prompted such a response. He glanced at Theo and was shocked to see unease. His dark eyes cast down to the table.

"Hagrid?" Harry turned to him. It was as if all the joy had been sucked out of the giant-man.

"No one told yer?"

"… told me what?"

"Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred," Hagrid heaved. He mumbled under his breath about nee'in a drink stronger than bloody tea.

"There were dark times before ye were born, very dark times." Hagrid ran thick fingers down his beard. Off in his thoughts. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

"Voldemort?"

Hagrid visibly winced.

"Yea, You-Know-Who was up to no good. A lot of people had to go inna hidin', includin' your parents."

Parents.

Harry's memory didn't extend far. There was Pre-Benjamin and Benjamin. Pre-Benjamin held vague, dark and uncomfortable moments like a nightmare that he couldn't quite remember. Pre-Benjamin Harry was sure he heard echoes of Uncle Vernon's taunts about his parents; they went and died in a car crash, drunk. Benjamin had Mum in his life, Mum in her portrait. Mum told him there was an accident. Mum never talked about Dad.

Hot heat roiled in Harry, he nearly told Hagrid to stop.

"Th're was a traitor!" Hagrid thundered. "And You-Know-Who had it out for yer parents… he found 'em. There's no escapin' You-Know-Who. And, they fought bravely, James forsure, but no one survives 'em, not You-Know-Who when he's usin' the Killin' Curse."

"Avada Kedavra," Theo whispered paper-thin.

"Darkest curse," Hagrid said contemptuously.

"My Mum and Dad died." Harry swallowed. "And what happened to me? How did I survive? Did Voldemort spare me?"

Hagrid shook his head. He looked at Harry with that same look hundreds gave him when he first stepped foot in Hogwarts. A look of bewildered hope, like he was a hero.

"Yer somethin' to be celebrated. You-Know-Who cast his curse and it de'lected." Harry brushed the raised scar on his forehead. "Yer killed You-Know-Who. Yer killed 'im. Nothin' but bones and dust."

"But my parents died."

Harry shook off Hermione. He stood up. "Thanks for tea."

Harry walked out of the cottage and back across the Front Lawn. He walked amongst the students of Hogwarts. He ignored the stares, the whispers, and the calls for his attention. He went straight to Hufflepuff dormitory where he shut his curtains.

It was only when he buried his head in his pillow did he realize he was crying.

Harry spent much the afternoon holed up in his bed. Ernie's persistent whines managed to get Harry out of bed before dinnertime.

Dinnertime was the absolute worst. Harry never noticed how annoying happy people were when he was feeling less than. His fork poked at his potatoes; he wasn't feeling hungry either. He frowned. Maybe he should just skip dessert.

"You're more mopey than Moaning Myrtle," Cedric said, his spoon slid down into his clam chowder. Harry shrugged. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Rather not." Harry rolled his peas into his potatoes.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Madam Hooch came to Dinnet, our Quidditch captain, today. She said you've got real talent."

Harry's fork hovered over his plate. His eyebrows climbed. That was new bit of information. "She said that?"

Cedric nodded once. "She said you've got more talent than a lot of first-years. She said we should watch out for you."

Harry's thoughts raced. He _was_ one of the only ones that successfully commanded his broom Up during their first lesson, and he had zero problems with hovering and coming back down.

(Harry failed to notice Cedric's triumphant smile.)

"First years can try out for the team, right?" Harry asked although he knew the answer.

"Sure!" Cedric said. "Didja see the post on the board? Tryouts next Friday afternoon, after class."

Harry nodded furiously. He had done more than see them, he marveled at the amazing artwork with people on broomsticks zooming across the page with banners to tryout.

If Madam Hooch believed in him surely that meant he actually had a chance in joining the team. Harry had roughly a week to practice before tryouts, that was plenty of time to polish his talent.

"Don't bother," Justin said. "A first-year hasn't made a Quidditch team in over a hundred years. We aren't even allowed brooms."

Harry hadn't heard him. "You said I could come to you if I needed any tips for Quidditch. Can we practice after class and this weekend?" Harry asked Cedric, starry-eyed.

"Um, sure."

"Thanks!" Harry beamed. His food disappeared and dessert appeared moments later. Harry helped himself to a large piece of treacle tart; his favorite dish by far. His head filled with broomsticks and glory.


	13. Chapter 13

**Friday as promised. Thank you to all my lurkers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers.**

**Unbeta'd. Read with caution.**

**Remus is a hard character to write.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Remus Lupin smelled off.

Benjamin ushered the ashen-faced man in. "Take off your shoes, please." He headed to the kitchen, he had to force himself to not lean in and inhale. What in the world was that odd scent Remus carried? It stank of sickness and danger.

"Food? Drinks? I have teas, coffees, juices…?"

"If you would, hot chocolate."

Ah. Lily was right to suggest he pick up some when Remus accepted his invitation. "No problem. Milk or water?"

"Milk."

"It will be a minute, feel free to sit." Benjamin nodded to the couch and armchairs in the living room. He spared a cursory glance and smile before he got Remus' beverage.

True to his word, Benjamin was done in a minute. He handed Remus a red cup, light steam hovered over the rim. Remus was situated in one of the armchairs; Benjamin across from him. "Munchkin usually wants all these add-ons; I have some whip cream and sprinkles if you'd like."

Remus' golden eyes flashed with amusement. "This is more than enough, thank you."

They lapsed into silence. Benjamin wasn't the most up-to-date on proper etiquette: was small talk necessary, or could he just launch into why he invited Remus over?

_sluuurp. _

Benjamin's fingers drummed on the arm of the couch. He sat perfectly still for a whole two minutes before he decided he couldn't do this anymore.

"Mr. Lupin—"

"Remus."

"Remus then," Benjamin offered a smile. "Unfortunately, I didn't invite you for cocoa."

"I should be so lucky."

"Lily would like to know where you and Sirius have been for the last ten years."

Remus pressed his lips together. His hand clenched around the cup. "Sirius Black has been imprisoned for last ten years."

That would explain why all the letters Horus returned to him were unopened. It didn't explain why Horus and the letters were slightly damp, and smelled strongly of despair and brackish water.

"And you?"

His adam's apple bobbed. He hunched over. "Business," Remus said.

"This business was more important than your godson?" Benjamin asked.

Remus licked his lips. He gulped down his hot chocolate. Benjamin pressed on.

"Your godson lost his parents in one night. Your godson had no one in this world. Petunia says your godson was left on the doorstep to be found beside some milk bottles. She also said it was the chilliest November morning they had in years, and there was no one. The Dursley's kept your godson for three years of his life and no one ever came and visited him, your godson with no one," Benjamin said, he tried to keep old rage out of his voice. It wasn't easy – the event of meeting his munchkin was vivid enough; it felt like it happened only moments ago. Harry, too small for four, miserable in tatty clothing, so alone that he gravitated toward him. An adult. A predator. For friendship.

"I thought it would be best," Remus said.

Benjamin clucked his tongue. "You never checked up on him, not once. Lily told me she gave you Petunia Dursley's address _just in case_. You weren't there for your godson coming into his heritage."

"Lily Potter is dead," Remus said with finality. It sounded like he repeated the fact many times over.

Benjamin clucked his tongue again. "We aren't talking about her. We're talking about why I should allow you back into your godson's life. You couldn't push aside your business to visit him."

Benjamin saw a shadow cross in Remus' eyes. He curled even more in the armchair looking small and raggedy.

"I shouldn't be allowed around him," Remus whispered.

"I'll be the one to decide that," Benjamin said. He wasn't in the mood for self-pity.

"You don't understand, my business prevents normalcy – it is right for Harry to never come around me – it was safer for him to be placed in Petu –"

"I'd advise you not to finish that sentence," Benjamin said. That shadow in Remus' eyes reappeared; it was sharper and that abnormal-scent wafted off of Remus in stronger waves, more danger than sickness.

"Does it have something to do with your scent?" Benjamin asked; he poked his nose. "You smell off."

Remus stiffened. He sipped the rest of his hot chocolate before he put it down on the glass-table in front of him. "I had my suspicions… the red eyes and the pallor, but vampires don't have enhanced senses."

"Perhaps, not the ones you've encountered," Benjamin said.

"Muggle," Remus said absently.

Right. "Are you ill?" Benjamin asked. "Is this your business; why you can't be around Harry – you're contagious?"

"Not if I keep myself medicated, if I'm away from people, even better if there is no full moon."

"A werewolf?" Benjamin put two-and-two together. The full-moon was enough of a hint. That didn't explain the sickly scent, or why the phases of the moon were important. A werewolf was strongest during the full moon true, but they were able to change at anytime and there was no medication to cure or control lycanthropy – at least, that's what Amun had told him.

"Are you not able to control your shifts yet, are you a pup?" The strands of grey hair belied it, but Remus looked young for a human.

"There is no controlling the wolf," Remus whispered, haunted.

Benjamin wanted to disagree. However, he thought this might be like Remus' confusion on his abilities. That world, the wizarding one, had its own species of werewolf and vampire with their own rules.

"And because of this… condition, you've isolated yourself from your godson?" Benjamin said.

Remus dipped his head. "It's best."

"Bullshit," Benjamin said. Remus' head snapped up. "If _I_ can stand to be around him and control myself than so can you."

Remus' mouth opened. His jaw hung for a bit before it closed. Good. He leaned forward. Remus cowered back.

"We'll hold off on the rest of my questionnaire. Any questions you want to ask me?"

Remus wryly grinned. He ran fingers through his hair. "You are?"

"Benjamin, just your friendly neighborhood blood-sucking vampire."

Remus raised his eyebrows.

"A friend of Petunia's?"

Benjamin snorted and shook his head. What a ridiculous notion. Remus narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, then? Why do you care so much for Harry?"

"Basic decency," Benjamin said. "Either humans are an astoundingly ignorant bunch, or they ignored the abuse going on right in front of their noses. I saved your godson - my munchkin."

"Munchkin. You mentioned him earlier. He likes his hot chocolate with whip cream and sprinkles?"

"Or, marshmallows and cinnamon."

"That's James," Remus said.

Lily had said the same thing. She also had the same warm smile and glow.

Harry mirrored his Father a lot.

Remus lost his smile. He peeled from the armchair and uncurled. "Your's?" he asked.

Fascinating! Remus had a similar streak of protectiveness like Lily when she first awoke.

"Mine," Benjamin said. His body language contrasted the calm found in his tone. Mine carried many negative connotations even more so in relation to a child. If he had to explain this to a regular human he'd be at a loss. But, if Remus was a werewolf as he claimed, he should understand. Werewolves were famously territorial, as were vampires. If Remus didn't understand or attempted to challenge him, well – Benjamin held back a smile "I haven't laid claim on him. My vampire recognizes him as mine - ours."

Remus watched him. He didn't look happy about it, but he didn't say anything against it. Another plus. Lily did say that she and Remus were often the voices of reason when she was alive.

"Anymore questions?"

Remus passed Benjamin's test.

"Lily," Remus said.

It was time for her test.

Benjamin got up from his seat and zipped over. He went from the living room with Remus' cup to the kitchen. He was back within the second. "Come upstairs."

Remus followed him up into the guest room. The bed dipped with Remus' weight, his patchy robes flowed over the brown comforter. Benjamin was in the corner, his arms crossed.

"Lily," Remus breathed. "You… You're…"

"James commissioned a portrait before we went into hiding, and I gave it a bit of my magic and blood."

Benjamin had no idea what that meant. Remus balked. "Dark magic."

"Grey magic. For Harry. If– when, he needed one of us," Lily said. She held the same stubborn expression as Harry, she'd never apologize for her decision. "Remus, you look horrible. Did you not receive the funds James and I left you?"

Remus cleared his throat. "I couldn't take that; I don't deserve it."

"We left them for you. It's exactly what you deserve despite your lapse in judgment regarding my son — where were you?"

"After you, James, and Peter died – Sirius imprisoned – " Remus said. "I was alone and the Ministry wouldn't grant custody even if I applied – "

"Hold on," Lily cut in the middle of his tirade. She approached the edge of the portrait as if she wanted to reach out herself. "Sirius is imprisoned. _Azkaban_?"

Remus sighed. He aged ten years in that moment. "Sirius Black, secret-keeper to his well-known best mate James Potter, betrayed him and his wife Lily Potter, to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Sirius Black went on to kill twelve muggles in a heinous massacre and blew up Peter Pettigrew, another close friend, in undeniable manic glee."

"I can't be sure of the muggles," Lily said, her face pinched. "But Sirius didn't betray James and I."

"He was your secret-keeper, the only one who knew your position," Remus said, his voice devoid of any argument.

Benjamin wanted to ask Remus how many times he had to repeat these facts about his friends.

"No, he wasn't!" Lily said. She tucked hair behind her ears. Her green-eyes glossed over. "Sirius convinced us about a week before we were due to go that he wasn't the safest option… Dumbledore and you already had so much going on… James and Sirius talked it over, they decided on Peter. Sirius lost the secret. Peter gained it."

"Sirius transferred the secret to Peter, Peter… our dear friend… he did this?" Remus repeated.

Lily looked down. She nodded.

_If he were a wolf, he'd be howling,_ Benjamin thought.

Remus' face twisted in pain. "That's why Sirius went mad. I'd go mad and I'd…" his voice died.

Lily nodded. "I don't know his sentence in Azkaban. But, if he's going to be imprisoned because of…"

Remus shook his head. "Sirius can't be released," Remus raked a hand through his hair. "He still killed." Benjamin had a sense that neither Lily or Remus cared about Sirius murdering people, or at very least, they were willing to overlook the fact.

"Surely, Sirius can be retried. A shorter sentence, a transfer to St. Mungo's – he's in Azkaban with those monsters; he'll go mad if he isn't already!"

"I know." Remus closed his eyes. "I know."

The books around Lily quivered; her hair frizzed as if touched by lightning. "What evidence did they bring against Sirius, Remus? Did they just throw him in prison? Our wands movements can be tracked by a multitude of spells, Legilimency is legal within court, Veritaserum—" she said in rapid-fire.

"I don't know," Remus sagged on the bed. "I don't know." he moaned low in his throat. "It-it was a different time, Lily, dark times. You remember. Accusations flew from everyone, families tore apart by paranoia and hysteria, the Ministry they did what they had to do – it was war."

Lily fully pressed against her portrait. "If Sirius has been wrongly sentenced and imprisoned in that hellhole, I don't give a fig about the bloody times."

Remus ducked his head.

"Enough about Sirius," Lily said, her eyes hardened. "We'll revisit the issue." She breathed out, backtracking to the sofa where she sat. She crossed one leg over the other.

"You've neglected to tell me how you've been," Lily said pointedly.

Benjamin suppressed a laugh. Did nothing escape Lily?

"I've been making enough to get by, it's only fair."

"Don't feed me that drivel," Lily said. "Those anti-werewolf laws are horrid. I thought the Ministry would've learned something when the werewolves sided with Voldemort."

The corners of Remus' lip turned for a brief moment.

"Are you living in the Moon Estates?"

Remus didn't meet Lily's eyes.

"Remus!" she cried. She looked ready to throttle him.

Benjamin was obviously curious. Moon Estates? He guessed it was some werewolf community.

Remus shrugged. "The Leaky Inn is expensive, work is scarce for my kind."

Lily regained that pinch. She tutted, glancing away. Benjamin heard the string of curse words grumbled under her breath. Abruptly, Lily looked at Benjamin.

"Benjamin, you've room."

"Wait – Lily – you can't just— "

"Shut up," Lily said. She wore a knowing grin. "This is between Benjamin and I."

Benjamin nodded. "I have room. Remus can have the second room, or the main." He didn't sleep after all, the main bedroom was essentially for show.

Remus gaped. "I can't accept this. I don't have anything to give you – "

"I don't want money. I have plenty," said Benjamin. He sold a collection of Amun's relics to curators and treasure hunters all over the globe before he ran away. His bank account was full for a comfortable lifetime and a half.

"There, you have it." Lily clapped.

"I can't impose –"

"You won't be imposing," Benjamin said. He liked Remus well-enough, he had the room, and it would hopefully give Benjamin something to do. Benjamin already envisioned the scandalous rumors that would spread when the residents realized Remus moved in with him. It would also give him someone to talk too. "Harry. You want to reconnect with Harry, surely."

"That's right," Lily said. "His second word was Moo'y; he'd be delighted to see his godfather."

"My illness, I couldn't put him in danger!"

"Are you still taking Wolfsbane?"

Remus gulped. "Of course."

"There are no problems."

"Plenty could go wrong, shoddy potion work for one and you can never be too careful!" Remus said hotly.

Lily tutted again. Benjamin was sure if she was alive, she'd either smack Remus upside the head or pet him, perhaps both. "Benjamin would never allow any harm to come to Harry while you shifted, and more than that – I trust you."

Remus stared at her with wet eyes.

"So, it's settled," Benjamin said. "Brilliant. I can actually use the groceries I bought this week. Remus are you in the mood for anything specific?"

"I-I have to get my stuff."

"I'll come back to you," Benjamin said easily.

There was tapping at the bedroom window. An owl that was not Hedwig. Benjamin opened the window. The owl, tawny brown, deposited the letter on the nightstand. It puffed its chest out importantly for a moment, and flew away.

"Hogwarts," Remus and Lily said in tandem.

"His first detention?" Lily asked, her voice already edged with amusement. Benjamin hoped not. He wasn't quite sure how he would be able to discipline Harry with letters; maybe, a strongly-worded letter?

He tore at the Hogwarts seal. He read quickly. Benjamin mumbled "I knew this was going to happen, this was the exact reason why I told him no in the first place – what's SkelGro?

"A bone-regrowth potion. It tastes like goblin piss or so James said. What's happened?" Lily asked.

Benjamin faced Lily. He shook his head. "He's been on the Quidditch team for a month and he's already gotten hurt – it's nothing serious: 'Mr. Potter has broken his collarbone due to a stray bludger. SkelGrow will fix him right as rain.'"

Benjamin couldn't muster up the strength to be irritated. His munchkin always sustained some sort of injury while in sports. Benjamin supposed as long as Harry had all his mental capabilities (with a few brain cells lost) and he was able-bodied that was all he could ask for.

"He's on the Quidditch team," Remus laughed. "Just like James, eh?"

"A reserve chaser and seeker on Hufflepuff," Lily said.

"Hufflepuff."

"I know."

At this point, Benjamin tuned them out. He slipped back downstairs into the living room where he turned on _EastEnders_.

Remus settled into the second room hours later. He denied Benjamin's invitation for the main bedroom despite his protest.

Benjamin sat on couch in the darkest hours. His head lulled back, his eyes closed, and his body slouched almost becoming one with the couch. It wasn't quite sleep, but it was close enough for a vampire. It was an opportunity to take in the safety of a nest and those within.

Benjamin's ears pricked with the sharp rap at the upstairs window. He tipped toward the sound. A coincidence – _tap!tap!tap!_

Alert, Benjamin ghosted upstairs to Lily's bedroom. Lily was curled up on the sofa, underneath a dark quilt she somehow acquired, the portrait's flames low.

Benjamin frowned when he saw the source of the sound: the prideful Hogwarts owl came back. He could see the white of the envelope clutched in its talon. "Harry," he said, equal parts exasperated and fond. This was probably the detention missive Lily joked about.

Benjamin opened the window. The bird flew in with an impatient hoot. He thrust out its claw to Benjamin. Benjamin took the letter while the owl flapped in-front of him. Its circular eyes inspired a brew of troubled anticipation.

"Harry," he said. "Munchkin, what did you do…"

The letter was opened. The words read. Again. Again. Again. It wasn't - it didn't make any sense - Harry -

"'To whom it may concern,

I regret to inform you… Mr. Potter… brought in… magic nearly gone… fighting for his life, it's up to Mr. Potter now… next letter sent in haste when Mr. Potter condition changes – '"

(The fire alarms shrieked. Remus jerked awake.

Dense, noxious smoke consumed the house. His shirt clung to his nose as Remus headed to the Lily's bedroom – his wand at his ready. Remus halted.

Benjamin was in the bedroom. Thick ropes of smoldering flame covered Benjamin's body, charcoal clouds hovered at Benjamin's knees – an encroaching pyre of orange-red at his feet gobbled at everything in its pathway. Benjamin's eyes, a ghastly ruby-red flecked with bloodied orange, reflected the light of the flames. A fistful of fire and fluttering ash in his hand.

_"Harry."_)


	14. Chapter 14

**No more pre-written chapters, sorry. Hopefully, there won't be long time between updates.**

**Thanks to all my reviewers, favoriters, lurkers, and alerters. **

**Unbeta'd. Read with caution.**

**Hailey Face: The killing curse doesn't work on him; idk about other spells and how Benjamin's elemental powers would work against them. Most likely, I haven't thought that far ahead yet, lol.**

**Another commonish question I have received is: is Harry Benjamin's mate? The answer is yes, but the romantic love won't happen for awhile. ;)**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Harry's upper chest ached.

More accurately, his collarbone hurt. A lot. It was a heady mix of rapid bone regrowth and miserableness. Harry tried to stay in one position. The stiff sheets underneath him weren't making it easy.

The long row of empty beds mocked him. Harry was the only one in the Hospital Wing. Everybody else was in the Great Hall gorging themselves on the Halloween Feast.

Harry sucked in his cheeks.

Malfoy traipsed in earlier today. Fake sympathy oozed from him as he told Harry that his Father had regaled him with stories about the Halloween feasts. Hogwarts went all out. They served cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, bat brownies, scream cheese, and all sorts of glorious, one-of-kind magical confectionaries. Malfoy even said the Great Hall's ceiling would be enchanted to show the Harvest Moon. It was _such a shame_ Harry would miss it.

Harry groaned.

He just had to be hit with that bludger! It wouldn't have happened if he hadn't got distracted by the flash of gold that buzzed around the Quidditch stadium, begging to be caught.

"Mr. Potter! I'll just be a second. Stay here!" said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry lifted up to see Madam Pomfrey pick up her white skirt and run out of the Hospital Wing. He watched the opened doors. He waited to see her matronly face poke back in, or her scold to lay back down. A second passed… another… another… a whole five minutes had gone by; Madam Pomfrey didn't come back.

This was his chance!

Harry bolted from the bed. His collarbone protested with a barbed sting. "Sorry," he said.

He looked at the bare bed. Madam Pomfrey would be upset for sure, but he was fine. If he had any major problems he'd come back, or well, he presumed someone like Hermione would notice and force him to come back.

Harry scurried to the doors. He peeked out. Left, his head went - right; nothing. The coast was clear. Harry headed straight across to the Quad; the fours towers poked through the dark clouds. Harry pulled his robes closer to his body.

It was chilly tonight.

There was an eerie silence that coated the Quad. It was a totally different atmosphere at night. There were no shouts of students, or the safety of the sunlight. It was just dark, scarily so, with the dim flickers of the torches in the distance.

The Quad reverberated with a guttural roar. Harry stumbled back.

What?

Had he imagined it?

Harry forced himself forward. "One foot in front of the other," he said. He made it to the tower where the Great Staircase was located, the Headmaster's office above that, it was safe — _what_ was that revolting smell? It was akin to fancy cheese on the asphalt in the summer sun atop of unwashed football gear. Harry squeezed his nose. The fine hairs on his neck refused to lay down.

Another roar. Harry froze. His eyes darted around for the source. Did the stench get that much stronger? Again, he forced himself to move. He hurried out of the tower into the small hallway, which would lead him to the Great Hall — _God_.

Harry's mouth opened in a silent scream. He saw a scrap of purple cloth in peripheral vision, it was going away, and Harry wanted to go with it, but he couldn't will his legs to move because… because… _It_ was in front of him.

It loomed over him. Its lumpy head brushed against Hogwarts' ceiling. It had green-brown warty skin and It dragged a heavy brown club, thick as a tree trunk, behind It. A dirty cloth covered It for modesty.

"Monster," Harry gasped. A leg moved back. No, that wasn't right. He remembered Professor Quirrell's introductory stutters on the first day of class "We-We'll be learning abo-about Tr-Trolls, ff-first."

This was a Troll. He didn't know what to do. Benjamin said that if he was in danger he should run, run straight back to him. But Benjamin wasn't here.

Harry had a sinking feeling that running wouldn't do any good. Harry was fast, yes, but the Troll only had to reach out and pluck him.

Beady black eyes fixated on Harry.

It bellowed.

Harry yelled. He turned tail and ran. The Troll followed him, Its heavy footfalls rattled the ground and It swung Its club like a baseball bat and Harry ducked and ducked —

His heart was at the pit of his belly. His vision the clearest it had ever been, there was only so much corridor left, his foot snagged in his pants, and he tumbled.

Harry had a moment of reprieve on the ground before he was back up. He stayed on the ground. He scuttled back, back, and back in an awkward crabwalk. The Troll slowed to lumber. It watched him with menacing eyes.

Professor Quirrell said Trolls were dumb brutes. Harry saw mean intelligence in Its eyes. It knew Harry had nowhere to go.

Harry tried to think about Professor Quirrell's lessons on beating Trolls. But, all he could think about was his inevitable doom and Malfoy's sneering face when the news would be delivered the next morning: Boy-Who-Lived wasn't so great after all, offed by a mere Troll. Harry also thought of the new friends he made: Hermione, Neville, Theo, Hagrid, and Benjamin, Mum — _Hagrid_.

Harry fumbled for his wand in his robe pocket. The wood felt sticky in his hand. Hagrid said that direct sunlight could kill Trolls, but Harry didn't know any sunlight spells. He only knew the Latin word for sun, sol.

"S-Sol," he stuttered. He pointed his wand at the Troll. Nothing happened.

Harry trailed back more. "S-Sol," he repeated. "Sol!Sol!Sol!Sol—"

Why wasn't it working? His thoughts grew more frazzled – magic… magic was more than dead words that no one understood Professor Flitwick had said. It was swish and flick and intent. 10 percent swish and flick, 90 percent intent.

Harry had to mean it.

He stopped his retreat. He waited, shudders wracked his body, his eyes on the Troll that moved at snail's pace until It was stone's toss away. The Troll roared louder than ever. The sound nearly popped Harry's eardrums – Harry pointed his wand firmly at the Troll.

He thought of the brightest summer. The sun in all of its glory, its long yellow rays that touched everywhere. He gathered all of his magic "Sol!" he said.

A glaring flash engulfed them. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His wand arm never lowered. He thought he felt the pleasant caress of sunlight. He thought he heard the Troll's distressed howl.

The light faded. Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He peeked.

Harry gaped.

The Troll was in front of him. Its club centimeters away from his head. The Troll was a solid-stone grey. A statue!

Harry only had moments to admire his handiwork. His wand fell out of his hand as he tipped back, a dull pain started in the back of his head. He couldn't quite describe it, but he felt, _empty_.

And was it him, or was there a sudden influx of black dots in his vision?

Harry just… he just needed to close his eyes for a minute, yea - just for a min…

…

Harry tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Harry inched up from the mattress, groaning. What happened? Why did his body hurt so much, and he was so tired. He nearly checked to make sure he wasn't wearing chains. Plus. His stomach growled, a hand moved to his belly; he was hungry.

He could use a pumpkin pasty.

Merlin!

He gripped his bedsheets. "Troll! Halloween! I...I...I..." he said.

Harry ripped the covers off. Where in the world was he? The stone walls. The empty rows of beds. The stiff sheets. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and Professor McGonagall and their gargoyle faces.

Wait – he didn't have time to fix the thought. The three women were at the foot of his bed. Harry swore if the three were able to shoot lasers out of their eyes, they would've, and he'd be a puddle of goo and charred bone at the moment.

He put the covers back and tried to look apologetic with his shoulders lowered and his bottom lip a tremble. Obviously, it didn't work because they glared harder.

"In all my years! Lily certainly never attempted so foolish and James, he knew his limits!" Professor Sprout said.

"September 1975," Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall said in creepy unison. Their expressions flat.

Harry suddenly wanted to know what happened in 1975. He almost asked, but it thought it best to save the question for later. He had bigger issues. The biggest was to not let this accident get back home.

"We have owled your guardians," Professor McGonagall said sharply.

Harry recoiled. Benjamin was going to kill him. Mum would too. Aunt Tunia might break out the wooden spoon and use it for real.

"But," he said, his voice reached a feeble whisper.

"No Buts. You went against deliberate directions to stay-put. You put yourself in danger, Mr. Potter – taking on the a full-grown Mountain Troll– nearly depleting your magic. _What_ were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry shrugged. The Hogwarts Halloween feast, he just wanted to go. Harry was sure if he said it aloud it would be met with the type of belittling mockery adults were specialists in.

"I guess I wasn't," Harry said lowly.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff," said Professor Sprout said. Harry hated the disappointment found in her voice. "For reckless behavior."

"Five points from Hufflepuff for going against express directions," Madam Pomfrey said with a sniff.

"Five points to Hufflepuff for taking down a threat to the school," said Professor McGonagall. Harry chanced a look at her, was she serious? Her facial expression didn't change. She — they all, looked down at him with their gargoyle expressions. Nonetheless, he could see it in their eyes, a glimmer of relief that he was all right.

Harry smiled.

"Another stunt like that and you're off the Quidditch team," Professor Sprout said. Harry's smile dwindled. "Get some rest. Your makeup work will be waiting for you," she said. She tipped her head at him, a trickle of dirt fell. She left.

Professor McGonagall didn't say anything even though Harry was sure she wanted to. She dipped her head and she was gone.

Harry faced Madam Pomfrey. She fretted around his bed. She tucked in his covers and replaced the medicine bottles at his bedside. He caught her saying "Just like James! Another fresh crop of grey, mark my words."

"What happened while I was out?"

"You were unconscious for three days, Mr. Potter," she said. "Your magic sapped with the force of your immature spell." She brushed brown-grey hair from her face. "You're very lucky we got there in time, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed the ball in his throat.

"You are young, your magic and strength will be restored. You'll recover within a week."

Harry nodded. "And the Troll?" he ventured.

"A lawn ornament for the greenhouses. Pomona wanted it."

Harry blinked at her. Professor Sprout kept it? His cheeks reddened, he felt a burst of affection for his Head of House. Maybe, she wasn't so mad at him.

**...**

Benjamin was here.

It was Harry's last day in the Hospital Wing. Professor Sprout said his guardian had owled back. She didn't elaborate. He caught up with most of his homework. Tomorrow, he'd rejoin his classes and see his friends (part of his punishment was no visits.).

Benjamin was here.

Madam Pomfrey spoke to Benjamin. She didn't look particularly happy to be talking to him, that was odd. Everyone, besides Aunt Tunia and Uncle Vernon, he knew liked Benjamin. Still, Madam Pomfrey left them alone.

Benjamin was here.

Benjamin sat in single chair placed at his bedside. Harry fiddled with his covers. Did he ever mention how stiff they were? He had managed to wear them out a tad for his comfort, and they were such a peculiar color, grey and light blue mixed together.

His heart took residence in his throat. An iron weight had settled in his stomach.

"Harry."

Harry flinched.

"Harry, look at me."

There was no playfulness in Benjamin's voice. It was reserved. If Harry looked at Benjamin, what would he see?

"_Harry_."

It was slow. Harry tried to drag it out. His eyes went from his covers to the rusted -metal that held his mattress to the stone-tiled floors up to the varnished wood of Benjamin's chair to Benjamin's black jeans to Benjamin's long-sleeved shirt, up, up, up his stomach to his chest, to his long neck and then, his face.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he held. There wasn't any sign of displeasure; he hadn't disappointed Benjamin. He breathed once more. Benjamin's face held a whole lotta concern and fondness, although his eyes were blacker than Harry had ever seen them. It was familiarity. It was _Benjamin._

Harry's throat contracted. His face felt hot and itchy.

"Harry – munchkin, I leave you for two months and you're breaking bones and fighting trolls," Benjamin said, his lips curved.

"I can't help it!"

Benjamin frowned. "Yes, you can."

"No, I — !"

"Har-ry." The two syllables shut down his argument. "Trouble finds you, true. But you can help it. Don't go looking for trouble."

"I didn't go looking for the Troll! I just wanted to eat at the feast and It was there, and It was going to kill me and —"

"She – Pomfrey – told me that she told you to _stay_."

"She just said stay, she didn't tell me there was a Troll prowling around! I wasn't doing anything wrong, I just wanted to go have fun at the feast!"

That wasn't the right response. The plump of Benjamin's lips went away. Harry felt infinitely small under Benjamin's appraisal. Harry fidgeted.

Infinity passed. Benjamin finally spoke.

"I got your first letter, the collarbone. I thought I was lucky, only a broken bone. It was the middle of night when I got the second letter. The letter told me that you were on the precipice – on the brink – of death, Harry. You were hundreds of miles away in critical condition on death's doorstep. I couldn't get there. I _couldn't_ get there. You have no idea how," Benjamin stopped, he abruptly spoke fast in Arabic, his hands rapidly moving in the air.

Benjamin switched back to English "...they sent another letter, you were stabilized and still, I couldn't come to you. A couple days later, a personal letter from your Head of House: you were awake and were talking, no mention of how to get to you. Two days ago, the last letter came with a portkey, a transportation device.

"At last, I see you today with your smile and your blood circulating, well, I'm relieved. I'm more than relieved. A weight has been lifted, you understand? I'm sure when I report back to your Mum, she'll feel even better than me. You're important to me, to us."

Benjamin's smile was back.

"I know it's hard for little boys like you to follow directions all the time."

Harry disagreed. It was not, if adults didn't make stupid rules all the time...

"I don't expect you to be perfect. I do, however, want you to try and rationalize your actions before attempting them. If you think your mother or I, or any of your professors would disapprove, it's probably best you_ don't_ do it. Your school medic says stay, then, it's probably in your best interest to _stay_… even if you're missing the best bloody feast on this side of the Atlantic. Okay?"

Harry slowly nodded. He didn't want Benjamin to see how much his words affected him. He rubbed under his glasses.

"When do you have to go back?" Harry asked.

"In about twenty minutes; wanna tell me more about Hogwarts?"

Yes!

"Did I ever tell you about Malfoy? He's the absolute worst. Like worse than Dudley, and you know no one can be worse than Big D…"

Twenty minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. Harry was in the middle of telling Benjamin about the obscene length of parchment Hermione almost always used in her assignments.

"Munchkin, it's time."

Harry would've liked to say he put on a brave face; he tried too. Madam Pomfrey came in. In a clipped tone, she told Benjamin the word he'd use to reactivate his portkey and where he could safely use (outside of Hogwarts perimeters.).

"Can I have a hug?" Benjamin said.

Harry reached over and hugged Benjamin; he didn't want to let him go. Seeing Benjamin reminded him that he missed home. Hogwarts was great, really. He was coming to love it and its eccentricities, but home was with Benjamin, Mum and Aunt Tunia in Surrey.

"No more Hogwarts owls?" Benjamin asked.

"No more Hogwarts owls," said Harry. Benjamin let him go.

"Just a month more until the holidays, be good," Benjamin said. He dropped a kiss on his forehead, and he was gone.

Harry swore he wasn't going to cry.

It was a few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey was at the foot of his bed. She was tense. She glanced from the door to Harry, and back to the door again. Harry wondered if Benjamin forgot something.

"Er, is something wrong?"

"Mr. Potter, does… does…"

"Benjamin?" Harry said slowly.

"Benjamin – has Benjamin ever done anything strange?"

Harry looked at her curiously. "What d'you mean?"

"Strange in habits, activities. Does Benjamin ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Nope," Harry popped his p. "I mean, unless, he doesn't eat and he doesn't like the sun all the much, and he's a little cold." The curiosity of nine lurked underneath eleven. "But Aunt Tunia doesn't eat all that much either and she only likes the sun in small doses." Harry shrugged. People were weird like that.

Madam Pomfrey inhaled. She wore a stretched smile. "Benjamin doesn't harm you though, he doesn't force you to do anything you don't want to do, or do anything that makes you uneasy?"

"It makes me nervous when Benjamin leaves," Harry said. A spark of irritation welled up of _that_ time.

"Please feel free to come to me if Benjamin does anything that makes you uncomfortable in the slightest, Mr. Potter." She nodded to him once, and she was gone too.

Harry decided Madam Pomfrey was the strange one before he fell asleep.

He dreamed of high and cold laughter, purple ribbons that slithered like snakes, and Mum's anguished scream.


	15. Chapter 15

**I didn't want to post without some pre-written chapters, but I figured what the hey. I should give ya'll somethin' to tide you over. As always thank you (my alerters, my favoriters, my lurkers, and reviewers) for your support, I very much appreciate it.**

**Read with caution. Unbeta'd.**

* * *

**Milky Way**

* * *

Anger.

Harry's angry, furious is the word because it consumes him whole, every nerve and thought violently tremors in burning red; Harry's focus is that pathetic tremulous voice, sniveling for mercy.

"You've failed me," Harry hisses.

"My-My-My Lord!" he throws himself to the ground, bleating platitudes. "Another ch-chance! Another chance!"

He writhes in agony for his impudence.

"My Lo-Lord! Pl-Please!" he cries.

Please.

Master does not abide by slave.

He has soiled himself. Snot, tears, and spit mix as he convulses. He gasps and struggles. Harry decides to stop.

This is only a temporary vessel, Harry thinks. Harry mustn't kill him, there was use for him yet.

"My Lo-Lo-Lord," he tries.

"I will grant clemency for your oversight," Harry hisses. "Your Lord is merciful and just, remember that."

Harry's in no mood to listen to simpers of gratitude. Harry can only hope this bumbling fool continues to go unnoticed by Dumbledore and manages to get the stone.

"Leave me, Quirinus."

A blinding flash of green. Agony. Mum's scream.

**...**

Harry lurched. He flattened against the corner, between his seat and the window, staring at Hermione, Neville, and Theo, bug-eyed.

Hermione closed _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _with a practiced sigh that told Harry she was both worried and annoyed. "Harry," she said. "This has got to stop, it's been almost two months since The Troll Incident; you should've gone to Madam Pomfrey before we left."

"What would you have me say? I have nightmares about Professor Quirrell!"

Hermione frowned. She pushed her book in her bag. "I thought you said you didn't know if it was Professor Quirrell."

Harry felt sparks of anger that somehow carried over from his dream. "I don't know for sure - I mean - he shakes and stutters the same - why are you so against it being Professor Quirrell. He _has_ been acting weird since the first quidditch match."

Gryffindor had lost terribly to Slytherin in that match, Harry suspected if they had a proper seeker they would've won.

Hermione shared a look with Theo. They had shared a lot of looks in the previous month.

"He wasn't acting like anything," Hermione said with a note of finality.

"I caught him staring at me. Ron noticed-"

"_Ronald. _You're going to trust his word!" Hermione blew thick curls out of her face. "He's the one started those awful rumors about Professor Snape - bitten by a three-headed dog in Hogwarts - I've never heard something so far-fetched."

Harry contained his eyeroll. First, the Weasley Twins started the rumor weeks ago when they claimed to have found a secret room with a Cerberus, Ron only added to it.

Second: "Hermione, this is Hogwarts we're speaking about. There's a giant squid in the lake and there are probably, like, giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest, just like in the Mirkwood.

"Perhaps," Harry added before Hermione readied her argument. "Ron's word isn't the best…"

At least not when arguing with Hermione. She had yet to get over Ron's less than perfect pronunciation in Charms or his apparent flailing about with his wand ("He's going to poke someone's eye out!"), and most egregious, Ron's refusal of help on the proper form from her.

"- but, you don't understand," Harry said. He moved from the corner to sit more comfortably in his seat. "I've this gut feeling about Professor Quirrell and it's nice to know someone doesn't think of me as a total nutter."

"I be-believe you, Harry," Neville said, quietly. Harry swiveled to his right where Neville sat, looking at him curiously.

"You do?"

"Sure." Neville cradled Trevor's plastic tank close to his chest. "Great-Aunt Reedmace says 'Go with your gut, it'll lead you right'."

"Thank you," Harry said.

Neville nodded quickly, his rounded cheeks flushed pink-red.

"Gut feeling or not, it isn't healthy that you keep having these nightmares," Hermione said.

"I know."

"Really Harry," Hermione persisted, clearly she didn't think he understood the gravity of the situation. "If you won't talk to Madam Pomfrey you should talk to someone at home."

"I will," he said.

Hermione threw him a pointed look, searching, but didn't say anything more.

Harry was interested in the countryside that rolled by. He had wished for a white Christmas. The closer they got to London, the more unlikely it seemed. Harry almost wished he had stayed at Hogwarts. Hagrid told him that every year it snowed and legendary snowball fights were held in the courtyard.

"I don't like this writer," Hermione said. She lowered the Daily Prophet. It had been sometime since their earlier fight.

"Who?"

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione said with the same critical tone she reserved for idiots and rule-breakers.

Theo snorted from his spot beside her. He was reading as well, a slice of a book nestled in his lap. Theo never elaborated on his reading material. "Of course, _you_ wouldn't like her."

"What does that–"

"She's a tabloid writer," Theo said, quickly. "It's rubbish."

"Most of the newspaper is filled with her rubbish," Hermione said, irritable as she closed the paper, ignoring the haughty sniff that emitted from the newspaper. "I should cancel my subscription and find a more reputable source."

"The only newspaper in Britain is the Daily Prophet."

"That can't be!"

Theo's beetle-black eyes shined with inquisitiveness as he regarded Hermione's outrage.

"You and Neville don't have the radio or the telly for news either," Harry added. "There aren't a lot of options in this world."

"There aren't a lot of people with magic," Theo said. "We're a special minority."

"That's not the point," Hermione said. "It's a form of power over the people. No matter how exclusive a community is, there should be _at least_ one other paper or form of media where you can get your news or other information!"

Harry was with Hermione on this one. There was something inherently wrong about getting a newspaper from a single source.

Theo shrugged. Hermione folded her arms for a minute, her mutinous scowl and narrowed brown spoke of trouble. She opened the Prophet once more and thumbed over Rita Skeeter's sections. "This world is so bizarre," she muttered.

Harry glimpsed the pale blues of the sky fading away to pinks and oranges. The Hogwarts train slowed to a rocky stop. Muscles heavy, Harry stretched as he stood. He traded relieved smiles with his mates before he was gone, Harry couldn't get out of the train-car fast enough.

Harry shoved passed the students throwing careless sorries over his shoulder. He was climbing down the stairs in a quick minute and true to Benjamin's word, months ago, when the thick white fog cleared Harry saw his face.

The first one he set his eyes on.

"Benjamin!"

Harry was a mess of awkward limbs and abrupt movement and elated gasps. He flashed into Benjamin's arms, burying his head in his shirt, Harry loosened as he was reacquainted with the frost of Benjamin's touch.

Harry saw Benjamin a month ago in the Hospital Wing, but that was for a negligible twenty minutes. Harry had a fortnight with Benjamin and Mum. Harry declined the invitation Aunt Tunia sent a week earlier to spend the winter hols at Aunt Marge's estate.

Benjamin was the first to pull back. "Missed me, munchkin?" a cocky smile pulled at his lips.

"What are you on about?" Harry said. "I'm just excited to do nothing."

"Of course." Benjamin grabbed Harry's school trunk, it materialized by Harry in the minute or so of their reunion. "Do you want to say goodbye, or…"

Harry lifted on his tippy-toes to scan the crowds. Hermione was the closest to them. She was talking animatedly to her parents. Neville was somehow in the middle of the chaos. He was talking, or standing, in front of a frightening lady dressed in severe robes and an elaborate Sunday hat adorned with a stuffed bird. Theo… Theo was off to the side. Harry almost glossed over him. He spoke with a young woman - too young in appearance to be his Mother - who was very obviously pregnant and bore a striking resemblance to him.

"They're busy," Harry said. His attention rounded back on Benjamin. "I'll write to them."

Benjamin nodded.

In thirty minutes, they were back in Little Whinging. Harry felt almost normal, like Benjamin had picked him up from footie practice. Harry was the first one out of the car. He bounded in the house (the door unlocked), his trainers were kicked off and pushed to the side.

Harry's thought was Mum. He was already halfway up the stairs. Benjamin followed him with a chirp of laughter. Harry was ready to retell all of his Hogwarts adventures, revamped and flowing with never-before-heard bits and pieces; Harry didn't expect a stranger in Mum's room. A stranger that sat in his spot near a nightstand covered by envelopes.

"Remus," Benjamin greeted the stranger. Benjamin pushed in the bedroom and sat next to this stranger - the intruder - and placed a hand on his shoulder. They were chummy.

Harry stood in the doorway. Spikes prickled under his skin. _Why?_

There was no context to why. Harry didn't get to explore the thought. The sound of Mum's voice focused him. "Baby!" Mum exclaimed.

Harry shuffled inside, he ignored the tell-tale flush on his cheeks. "Mum, I have so much to tell you."

"I bet you do," Mum laughed. "What are you standing off to the side for? Sit sit, I want to see you and hear all about Hogwarts."

Benjamin patted the bit of mattress next to him. Harry took the seat. "I don't believe we've met," Harry addressed the stranger.

"We have," the stranger said, slowly. "A long time ago."

Great. Why was he here?

"I'm Remus Lupin, a family friend."

"Don't be modest! He's more than that," Mum said. "Remus is one of your godfathers, Harry. Third to hold you and first to give you a gift."

Harry waited for warm fuzzies to flutter inside with this revelation. None occurred. The spikes remained.

"Erm, pleasure," Harry said, finding his voice.

"You'll be close again, Remus is living here," Mum said, smiling prettily.

Harry stiffened for a second, indignities sprouted up, fighting to be heard and said, why wasn't any of this mentioned in the letters, numerous as they were, why was Remus Lupin in his life, Harry never had to share people before, he didn't like the feeling-

"I worried Benjamin would only have the wall to talk too," Harry said weakly.

"You're a shade off. Benjamin was on his way to becoming friends with the ceiling…" Mum said with Benjamin's interjection of "It was one night!"

Harry laughed, feeling lighter despite Remus' intrusion, he missed this. Harry drew his feet up to rest on the bed frame; he was home.

Later that night, Harry faced a perk. Remus' addition into Benjamin's home meant Harry wasn't subject to playing chance with Benjamin's freezer and pre-cooked meals. Remus was a good cook, he was almost as good as Aunt Tunia. Compliments were passed on to the chef via Benjamin's running commentary when Harry reached for his third slice of steak-and-kidney pie.

"They aren't feeding you at Hogwarts, munchkin?" Benjamin asked. Harry's eyes followed Benjamin's silver fork poking holes in the crust, the brown liquid and steam spilling out in rivers. Benjamin was still on his first (mostly whole) piece. That was expected. Benjamin never finished his food.

"Hungry," Harry said, he licked the dripping gravy from his bottom lip. "And it's good, very good.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Harry shoveled in another bite.

Remus, adjacent to him, softly smiled. "My mother. I was sick often so I stayed home."

Harry could believe it. Harry had tried his hardest to ignore the heavy bags under Remus' eyes and the methodical way he moved as if conserving energy. It wasn't like Remus looked sick at the moment, just tired. It was like Remus was secretly a 90-year-old instead of the spry thirty-somethin' he had to be.

"Munchkin?" Benjamin scooped his food unto Harry's plate. "Have any homework?"

"Huh- oh yeah," Harry said. This was probably his last piece unless Remus had secret dessert. "Snape wants us to write two rolls on the uses of garlic - don't give me that look, Benjamin. It's true - Professor Sinistra wants us to draw the full moon, that's tomorrow right? We're supposed to be keeping up with the phases of the moon all year for a proj–"

The table shook with Remus' sudden departure. Harry waited until Remus was out of the sight to ask "What did I say?"

Benjamin blinked at him, his mouth twisted like he most definitely wanted to say whatever it was, but he couldn't- he wouldn't. Benjamin began to clean up, pointing to his plate. "You're going to finish that?"

"Yes." Harry stuffed a large portion in his mouth, moving it around so he could speak in a coherent manner. "But, Benjamin, you didn't answe–"

"Do you mind sleeping in my room tonight and tomorrow?"

Harry swallowed. Benjamin used the opportunity to grab his plate and the baking dish, he went into the kitchen. Harry followed.

"Why?"

"Your Mum wants alone time and Remus moved into the second room."

"Oh, I can sleep on the couch for a few nights."

"No." Benjamin went through the motions of washing his plate and placing it on the rack to dry.

"No?"

"_No_." Benjamin clicked off the kitchen and dining rooms lights, heading into the living room, Harry at his heels. They didn't bother to turn on the lights. Benjamin leaned back on the couch where he clicked on the telly.

"No," Harry said. He didn't sit. He sprawled, a confused noise escaped him. It took a few seconds of intense squirming to find the exact spot to just relax. Harry was surprised that his body had acclimated to the plush down pillows in the Hufflepuff common room and the comforting heat of the fireplace.

"Comfortable?"

Harry gave Benjamin a slow nod.

Benjamin's eyes, bright red, on the tv program. The telly washing them in the glow of its light.

"Benjamin?" Harry found himself asking, picked at his shirt.

"Mhm?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Remus?"

"We-Lily, Remus, and I felt it best to wait until the holidays to break the news. We didn't want to distract you."

"Oh… I would've handled it."

Benjamin laughed. "I sure you would've. The next time I get a new roommate I'll keep that in mind."

Harry wiggled closer. He placed his feet in Benjamin's lap, Benjamin said nothing. He placed a cold hand on his ankles. "Benjamin?"

"Uh-huh."

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"I thought you read my letters."

"I did," Harry said, a little hotly, a lot embarrassed. "I want to hear it from you."

"Well." Harry tilted forward, already drowning out the sound of the telly in favor of Benjamin's voice. "I mostly stayed home. Sometimes, I went to the grocery store or walked or talked to the neighbors like your Aunt. I learned. I cleaned. I cooked. I ate. I waited."

_Did you miss me?_

"And I missed you, of course," Benjamin said.

"Erm, I missed you too," Harry mumbled, he fought down his blush at the admission and tried not to revel in the words. "Benjamin?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?"

"I haven't had a reason too."

"Oh." Harry let that sink in. "Can… can I be a reason?" Harry weighed the words on his tongue. "I would like to know about your family, I think it's fair, you know my family."

"You're right," Benjamin said, his smile drooped. He had the type of tone Harry recognized in adults when they weren't feeling open to speaking, but were willing. "What do you want to know."

"Your family," Harry repeated. "Mum. Dad. Siblings. Where you grew up."

"I don't remember my biological mother or father. I have two... one sibling, he's in Italy. I grew up with many cousins then I met my adopted father… he gave me… he gave me life," Benjamin said, slow and stilted. Harry could tell he was looking at the telly so he wouldn't have to look at him. "And I grew up in Cairo."

Egypt. Benjamin grew up in Egypt with one sibling, lots of cousins, and an adopted father. Harry tried to imagine it, conjuring up large golden sand dunes, the snaking dark blue waters of the Nile, and sparse palm trees and camels and Benjamin's ringing laughter as he played in this fantastical wonderland.

Harry was greedy for more. Benjamin couldn't stop there. Where had Benjamin gone to school, what did Benjamin do for a job, why was his brother in Italy, how did Benjamin grow up with cousins if he didn't mention his uncle as his adopted father, why did he come to England, why had nobody visited, and Benjamin had to be somewhere in his twenties, so why didn't Benjamin have a… a… girlfriend- that's the ticket.

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses as he considered it. Girlfriend was a strange word. Hermione was prime example of the strangeness. Hermione was a girl, Hermione was his friend, but she wasn't his _girlfriend_. No, that word was special.

Harry knew it was reserved for bubbly giggles and handholding and the cow-eyed looks Cedric wore whenever Cho Chang was mentioned. It was sappy feelings that Harry had stumbled upon unwittingly, dazed and confused, when he found himself staring-studying someone for longer than necessary, the need to be noticed an explosive necessity.

Harry tried to imagine Benjamin and his girlfriend in Cairo, holding hands while Benjamin made dopey faces and she would giggle in that irritatingly bubbly way. Harry's tummy tightened and he had the sense that he wore a horrible grimace like if someone literally peed in his cheerios.

"Benjamin?" Harry said, steeling himself for the gutting. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"No?"

"_No_?"

"Harry, I don't have a girlfriend," Benjamin said. Harry heard Benjamin's minute mutter, but his answer was the same: Benjamin didn't have a girlfriend.

Benjamin _didn't_ have a girlfriend!

Harry kicked his legs, energized by the answer.

"You want me to be a miserable bachelor?"

Harry shrugged. He couldn't explain the reason why he was so happy beyond Benjamin is still mine.

"What did you learn about, earlier?" Harry asked, he settled.

"Not a what. A who."

"Who."

Benjamin's absent grazing fingers on his ankles stopped. "A man," Benjamin said, low and drawn out. "A man with a type of past that makes it hard to separate truth and fact."

Harry thought this mysterious man sounded interesting almost legendary. "Why did you learn about this man?"

"You're full of questions tonight."

"You're avoiding the question."

Benjamin resumed his grazing, his fingers circled around the raised bone. "Remus," Benjamin said. "He told me about this man, and we went to the library - the British Library - to find out as much as possible about him."

"Now that you've learned about this man." Harry scooted closer to Benjamin, his head lolled on the cushions, the bristles scratched fine against his skin. "What do you think of him?"

"I don't know," Benjamin said. That struck Harry as off because when did Benjamin ever not know and when had he admitted to him. "I like what I've learned, but paper doesn't always tell the truth and neither do friends. Perception goes both ways."

"Is he important?"

"He's important like how Remus is."

"Remus is important to you?"

Benjamin turned to Harry, his dark eyes bore into him. He held out a hand, Harry took it, a single gasp left him as he was hoisted. Benjamin gently swept his legs off his lap, standing up. "Time for bed, munchkin."

The spikes under Harry's skin were back, they hacked at his core and Harry felt the stormy waves of temper rallying underneath. He stayed on the couch. "Is Remus important to you, is the man important?"

"I want you to answer that for yourself."

"I… I guess," Harry said. He had only known Remus for a day, hours really. He cooked well. He made Mum and Benjamin happy. "I don't know about the man though, I don't even know his name!"

"You have your answer."

"That's not an answer!"

"It's the only one you're getting."

A glare thrown Benjamin's way, Harry marched to his room, which doubled as Mum's room. He remembered she wanted alone time and Remus' had the second room, he had to sleep in Benjamin's room.

Well.

He didn't have to like it. Harry claimed the piece of the mattress that hugged the wall. He put as much space as possible between him and Benjamin's spot, Harry also created a cocoon with most of the comforter. He crossed his arms and pressed them close to his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Harry counted thirteen thousands before the mattress dipped down and the bedframe wobbled and creaked. The only sound heard was Harry's inhales, somehow too loud in the dark.

"What a way to end your first night back. I didn't want to fight with you."

Harry chewed on his lip. He hadn't wanted to fight either, but…

"I can't tell you everything, munchkin."

Harry turned sharply in his cocoon. If he concentrated, Harry could almost see Benjamin's outline behind the wall of cotton and fabric. He tasted bitter metal and salt in his mouth as he waited for Benjamin's explanation.

"When you get to be my age," Benjamin began, undertones of mirth crept in his words. "You'll understand that there are things that I can't disclose with an eleven-year-old, no matter how mature he might be."

Benjamin wasn't _that_ much older, and age shouldn't matter because Harry and Benjamin weren't adult and child. Benjamin was Harry's best mate, they weren't supposed to keep secrets. Harry had thought Benjamin felt the same.

"But, I can answer this. No. Remus and the man aren't important to me, but they are- they will be to you, munchkin, because of that connection I care."

A foreign warmth Harry couldn't put a name to flooded his chest. He pushed back his cocoon, just a bit, sighing as cool air hit his face. He inched from the wall, closer to Benjamin. "G'night."

"Sweet dreams."

**...**

Harry twisted his mouth in a silent scream.

**...**

His heart furiously thudding in his chest, head pounding and pouring and cramming with so many thoughts and whispers and hisses, it's not enough, it's not enough, he can't… he can't… he can't…

_whereisitwhereiswhereiswhereisitwhereisit–_

My Lord. My Lord. My Lord.

Centers him. There are promises exchanged and he can feel his cowardice, it seeps inside him, ugly and black, and he wants to purge this fool and do it himself because he's running out time, weaker by the day, the longer he stays in this brittle-

This _fragile_ form-

Then you see it, you see it and it's blindingly obvious how you'll last through the year how you'll preserve and claw up and be reborn anew

The _forbidden_ forest

Deep, deep into the forest where your mind's eye focuses on white without dirt like freshly fallen snow or madonna lilies, guileless and powerful in sacrifice and your salvation

My Lord. My Lord. My Lord.

His supplication is his salvation.

**...**

"Harry!"

Harry shivered.

Harry peeled from the mattress, he knew he was soaked in sweat like had decided to swim and get back in bed in his swimming costume.

It was in the first few moments when Harry tried to review his dream, there was nothing but Professor Quirrell's distinct tremulous tenor and then, it was all gone, blown away like dust in the wind except Mum's scream. _Why does she scream?_

"…munchkin," Benjamin asked, he reached for him.

Harry couldn't get out the bed fast enough. "It's fine," he said, too fast to be taken as truth. He didn't want to be in bed with Benjamin, he didn't want to tell him that he hadn't been alright since he last saw him, that he had these nightmares.

"It's fine," Harry said again in the safety of the bathroom. His head rested on his knees. The button on the door knob punched in. The lights above, luminous, chasing away all darkness.

"I'm fine."


End file.
